


My Big Fat Southern Wedding

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty works at his family pie shop, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Growing Up, Jack is an Atlanta Thrasher, Just imagine the Thrashers still exist okay?, M/M, My Big Fat Greek Wedding AU, Shitty and Holster are Dicky's Cousins, Wedding Planning, families, meet cute, takes place in madison and atlanta, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: "You've got a weird family. Who doesn't?”For quiet baker, Dicky Bittle, falling in love was not on the menu.  While busy running his family-owned The Dancing Pies restaurant, he'd never imagine he'd fall in love with Atlanta Thrashers' star, Jack Zimmermann.  But love did come, and love is there to stay... unfortunately, so is his family.  A Zimbits AU inspired byMy Big Fat Greek Wedding.





	1. The Dancing Pies

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this bullet point [fic](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/post/163487484419/my-big-fat-greek-wedding-zimbits-au) I wrote forever ago.

“You have to make sure you cut the butter until you see peas, baby.”

“Okay, MooMaw,” Dicky said as he continued to work the butter into the flour.

“Mm-mm-mm. You, my sweet little butterbean are clearly the one who got my baking smarts—and not your cousins, bless their hearts. The girls aren’t interested, and lord knows Adam and Bertie are useless in the kitchen.”

Dicky giggled as he worked. 

“See? You always get a crisp crust when the bits of butter melt. So you got to cut the butter until it’s the size of peas. It leaves these little pockets of air in the crust as it bakes. Got it?”

“Got it, MooMaw.”

Dicky filed away that tidbit, like every other his MooMaw gave him. 

“You two at it again?” Suzanne asked as she wandered into the kitchen.

“This boy has a gift,” MooMaw proudly declared. “Mark my words, missy. The Bittle name will live on in his cooking long after I’m gone.”

Suzanne frowned. “The Phelps name, too.”

“Sure, sure,” MooMaw said with a wave of her hand. “But this one here, this is one special Bittle.”

Dicky Bittle was only seven but already knew his way around a kitchen better than most grown-ups. Being with his MooMaw in the kitchen was his most favorite thing and he’d bake forever if given the chance.

_Seventeen Years Later…_

“Junior, it’s time to get up.”

Dicky groaned as he rolled over to look at his alarm clock on the nightstand. Señor Bun tumbled off the bed. 4:35 a.m. Blargh.

“Just shoot me,” Dicky said into his pillow. 

“All right. Be sure to set an appointment with my secretary and we’ll get it done,” Coach said with a smirk. 

“Let me live, Coach,” Dicky whined.

“Hell, son, make up your mind. Life or death? Now, if you want a ride to the restaurant, you need to get up right now. We’re leaving in 15,” Coach said and closed Dicky’s bedroom door.

Dicky sighed and kicked off his blanket. This was the life of Eric Richard Bittle. 

Dicky Bittle was the gifted and talented baking son of Suzanne and Coach Bittle. The Bittles owned The Dancing Pies restaurant in Madison, which was according to _Saveur_ magazine was fast becoming, “the cornerstone of the Southern pie-making industry and a must-eat for anyone within a two-hour drive.” 

Of course, most of The Dancing Pies’ success was due to Dicky who, under the watchful eye of his MooMaw, became the best pie maker in all of the South. 

A shy and somewhat quiet young man, Dicky spent most of his time baking and working at The Dancing Pies. While the majority of his high school friends (whom, really, he could count on one hand) moved out of state and went on to college, Dicky stayed behind to help with the restaurant. Always courteous and helpful, forever modest, Dicky never let his success get to his head. He’d just smile and keep working. 

Dicky took an occasional class at UGA and thought about enrolling full-time but truth be told, the prospect of where that would lead made him both terrified and exhilarated. If he left, where would he go? What would he do? Still, it could be something. While his father or MooMaw never stated otherwise, he knew, however, he was expected to run The Dancing Pies for no one else in the family could execute MooMaw’s vision. 

He yawned and gave himself a full body stretch before he stumbled into the bathroom. Dicky looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror and sighed. 

“I got so many bags under my eyes, they practically need to be checked,” he said.

He quickly jumped in the shower, got dressed and pulled on a Dancing Pies t-shirt, grabbed the travel mug of coffee mama left on the counter, and made his way to the driveway where Coach patiently waited.

“Two more minutes and I’d been off like a dirty shirt, Junior,” Coach said smugly.

“Then who woulda made the pies, Coach?” Dicky asked with a sleepy smile as he took a sip of his coffee.

“You got me there, son. Come on, let’s go.”

“Another day, another pie,” Dicky mumbled to himself.

Dicky yawned as he looked out the car window and watched the stars still shining in the early morning sky. He’d often play this game with himself. The stars he was looking at were the stars of his future. They were there when he was a child and would be there when he was an old man. And maybe even his future someone was also looking at that same particular star. The moon and the stars up above would shine down below on his special someone, as they did on him. 

He shook his head and knew there was no one in Madison he was interested in—or who even understood him. He’d shared that with his MooMaw once; she was his best friend, after all. He told her how he’d look up at the stars in the sky and wish… for someone or something more, though he had no clue what.

“Well whatever it is, it’ll come when you least expect it,” she had replied as she gently rolled out some dough. “Now, what’s the number one ingredient in any pie?”

“Love,” he said with a blush. 

“That’s right. Now go soak your hands in some ice water so you can start handling the next batch of dough.”

Dicky watched the sky give way to the dawn as they continued to make their way to the restaurant. Coach whistled an old Dixie Chicks song until they finally pulled into the parking space in front of The Dancing Pies.

“What you thinking for today?” Coach asked and unlocked the front door.

Dicky hummed. “Blueberry, cherry, grasshopper pie, apricot ginger, strawberry cheesecake pie, and maybe an asparagus quiche?”

“Sounds good.” 

The Dancing Pies began in MooMaw Bittle’s kitchen back in the late 80s. She’d sell the pies at church bake sales, school fundraisers—that sort of thing. People offered her money for her recipes but she steadfastly refused. She onto her family recipes and guarded them with her life. MooMaw’s pies became in such high demand that, after some encouragement from Paw-Paw Bittle, she decided to open up a tiny corner shop off Main Street. 

From there, The Dancing Pies grew in both success and fame, and soon they had a restaurant in the busiest part of Madison where six different pie varieties were baked daily and served along with breakfast, soups, salads, and sandwiches. 

MooMaw retired soon after Paw-Paw died. When she retired, she passed on the business to her oldest son, Rick, on the condition that Dicky—and Dicky alone—would oversee the pie-making end of the business. Rick had his sights on being an NFL quarterback but one bad knee later, his football career was over. So he dove into the restaurant business with gusto. Rick still managed to coach the local high school team part-time thanks to Dicky’s aptitude and willingness to learn. 

The restaurant became so profitable, the Bittles soon found themselves in the precarious predicament of being labeled nouveau riche by their neighbors who frowned at the upgrades to their home, cars, and business, but the Bittles just thought of themselves as regular folk with a little bit of extra cushion so as not worry about rainy days. 

“Lord, if Shitty doesn’t get here soon,” Dicky said as he quickly worked on his dough, “I’m not sure I can get all six varieties done by opening.” 

Coming from a large, close-knit family, the Bittles hired kin to work at The Dancing Pies. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, and nieces all made their way through The Dancing Pies kitchen at some point. This time around, Holster and Shitty, who were Dicky’s older cousins, rounded out The Dancing Pies staff, along with some local kids.

Being an only child, Dicky was considered the oddball of the Bittle/Phelps clans as he had more cousins than he could shake a stick at. Dicky had always felt different from them—not in a bad way, just… they didn’t have too much in common. While Holster and Shitty were rambunctious loudmouths, Dicky preferred some alone time with his headphones, his music, and a good book. Dicky was a preemie when he was born and had always been a bit smaller than most of this cousins. Still, he knew he was loved and protected by them. Holster and Shitty, in particular, had always looked out for Dicky, and he always found enormous comfort in that. 

“Fuck a royal duck! Am I late?” Shitty yelled as he burst in through the front door.

“Language, Shitty,” Coach called out from the register.

“What? No one’s here, and I know for a fact everyone here swears like a drunken sailor on shore leave—especially you, cuz,” Shitty called out with a wink as he pointed at Dicky.

“You’re not late, but next time, could you maybe be a little less not late?” Dicky said and handed Shitty an apron.

Holster walked in soon after. 

“I couldn’t find my glasses, and then I realized I had them on,” he bellowed. 

“Holster, were you always this helpless or did you take lessons?” Dicky asked.

“I took lessons,” Holster replied with a goofy grin.

“Lord help these boys,” Dicky said with a smile as he continued to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's to come? Jack enters the picture when he goes to The Dancing Pies with Tater. Your comments and kudos will help keep me motivated to finish. Thanks for reading! xo <333 :)))
> 
> Come and say [hi on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/).  
> All OMGCP characters belong to Ngozi Ukazu.


	2. Jack Zimmermann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed to be a day like any other... until Jack Zimmermann walked into The Dancing Pies.

It seemed to be a day like any other. Six pie varieties were made: cherry, cinnamon sweet potato, grapefruit meringue, strawberry chocolate crème, pear custard, and a ham and brie quiche. Shitty broke two dishes, and Holster got two phone numbers from girls. 

The breakfast crowd died down and the lunchtime group wouldn’t come in for another half hour so Dicky began to fold napkins during his brief downtime, happy he could just sit and be still for a moment. He poured himself a cup of coffee and began to hum quietly as he worked. 

Just then, the bell over the door jingled and in walked two men. Dicky didn’t know who they were, but apparently, some of the people in the restaurant did as they turned to gawk at them. The taller man, who was gangly and about Holster’s height, obstructed the other man so Dicky couldn’t get a good look. He waved at everyone and Holster did a double-take from behind the counter. 

“Well, I’ll be,” he mumbled. 

He grabbed two menus and walked over to them.

“Hey, man. Welcome to The Dancing Pies. Table for two?” Holster asked.

“Yes! Table for two. We’re finally here! I’m excited,” the waver said. 

He had an accent, maybe Russian, Dicky thought.

“All right, man! This way, please,” Holster said as he offered them a toothy grin.

“Thanks.”

Holster showed them to a table and handed over the menus. 

“Your server will be right with you.” 

Holster casually walked back toward the counter and whispered to Dicky, “Holy crap! You lucky little shit. They’re at your table!”

Dicky shrugged and walked over then felt his heart practically stop beating when he finally saw the Russian guy’s friend. Dicky doesn’t think he’d ever seen anyone as beautiful as that man in his entire life. He had the bluest, softest eyes and cheekbones that looked like they could slice apples. Dicky noticed that he appeared a bit tightly wound. The man smiled awkwardly as he put down his menu and his friend began to speak.

“Marty brought pie to nook the other day and I eat it, and I thought, ‘Tater, you dead. You're in heaven. There is no way pie this good is on Earth.’ So I ask Marty where pie is from and he said Gabby bought from The Dancing Pies. So I ask Zimmboni to come with me to try,” the Russian said as he excitedly looked through the menu.

“Your name is... Tater?” Dicky asked as his friend suddenly looked relieved and offered a genuine smile.

The Russian laughed loudly. “Yes, yes! I’m Alexei Mashkov but you can call me Tater. And this Zimmboni—”

The other man groaned and shook his head. “Jack. Just Jack, thanks.”

Dicky swallowed dryly as he felt himself stare at Jack just a little too long. He then kickstarted his brain.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Coffee?”

“In big, big mug,” Tater replied as Dicky nodded.

“Um… what about you, Just Jack?”

Jack smiled again, and the corner of his eyes crinkled. “Sure, thanks.” 

“Be right back,” Dicky squeaked out and walked over behind the counter. 

He grabbed two mugs and quickly peeked over his shoulder. Good lord, Jack was gorgeous. How was he even real? Dicky watched as Jack nodded at something Tater said. Who were they? Holster apparently knew who they were, but he was at a table so Dicky couldn’t procure more info.

Dicky cleared his throat, then instinctively smoothed down his cowlick when he remembered how he was dressed... and at that moment, he wanted to die. 

Dicky had woken up late and was cutting it close with Coach’s 15-minute warning that morning so he slapped on his old glasses that were all scratched and one bump away from falling apart. He’d grabbed the first clean thing he could find and was now wearing some baggy old jeans, a faded Cookie Monster t-shirt, and his beaten up checkered Vans. Dicky sighed and looked at his bedhead reflection on the toaster and could see a smear of crusty toothpaste just under his lower lip. He’d thought Shitty or Holster would have mentioned it, but no. Good lord!

Dicky quickly wiped his face with a napkin and returned to the table with their coffee.

“So, did you decide? What can I get you?” 

“What do you recommend?” Jack asked brightly.

“If I made it, uh… you’ll eat it,” Dicky said as he pushed up his glasses. 

Jack’s eyebrows flew up at the response, and both Jack and Tater began to laugh.

“Bitty baker is too funny, Zimmboni!” Tater yelled as Jack smirked and watched the shy waiter from behind his menu.

“You made all the pies?” Jack asked.

Dicky nodded nervously and bit his lower lip.

“Zimmboni, everything here is good. I can feel it!” Tater said as Dicky poured Jack a cup of coffee.

Dicky nodded again while Jack perused the menu one more time.

“I can’t decide. Why don’t you just bring me what you think I’ll like,” Jack said politely.

“What about you, um, Tater? Some sweet potato pie, maybe?”

“Ha! I like you very much!” Tater said. “Can I get slice of blueberry, sweet potato, and chocolate creams?”

“All at once?” Dicky asked.

Tater grinned as Jack said, “I’m sure he’ll get one more slice after that, too.”

Dicky offered them a smile—although he could feel that it looked more like a weird grimace more than anything—and walked back toward the counter.

Holster came behind the counter and grabbed some napkins. 

“It’s not every day we get some Thrashers in here,” he said and snapped his gum. “Nice!”

“Thrashers?” Dicky asked as he watched Jack.

“Uh-huh. You know, those hockey boys? Not as great as football, but hockey ain’t half bad,” he said and walked back to table number five.

Dicky cut up the slices of pie, placed them on a serving tray and approached their table.

“Okay, Mr. Tater, here’s your blueberry, sweet potato, and strawberry chocolate crème.”

Tater’s eye grew as he laughed loudly. “Yes! Thank you, Bitty.”

Dicky’s brow crinkled and then he smiled. “Bitty? Okay.”

“Ignore him, he tries to give everyone a nickname,” Jack said and watched semi-horrified as Tater immediately began to shovel in the pie. 

“And for you, Jack, a slice of my favorite. Cherry.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “It looks terrific.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Dicky said and began to walk away quickly, not wanting to be creepy.

“Just the check, please. We have to get going as soon as we’re done,” Jack said.

“Oh… um, okay.” 

Dicky pulled out the check from his apron pocket and placed it face down.

The two enjoyed their coffee and pie as Dicky discreetly watched from the counter. When Dicky saw that Jack finished his coffee and began to approach, he sat up and tried to appear as calm as he could.

“How was everything?” Dicky asked.

“You were right. I liked everything you made,” Jack said matter-of-factly as he handed over his debit card.

Dicky blushed. “Well, then I guess my record stays intact.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Okay, Zimmboni, you need to carry me to car,” Tater called out as he rubbed his belly.

“Haha. No chance. I’m not doing that again,” Jack replied then blushed as he glanced at Dicky.

“Thanks and come again,” Dicky said as Tater waved and the two made their way.

Shitty poked his head out from the kitchen door.

“What the fuck? Am I hallucinating or was that Alexei Mashkov and Jack Zimmermann?” Shitty asked.

“‘Chyeah it was,” Holster replied.

“What were they doing here?”

“Eating pie!” Holster said loudly.

“What kind?”

“Cherry, blueberry, sweet potato—”

“Okay, you two are as compelling as paint drying. Don’t you have work to do?” Dicky asked as he shooed them away.

“Good tippers?” Shitty asked.

“Uh-huh,” Dicky replied. He walked over to the window and saw them get into a copper Dodge Charger and drive away.

“They hecking better be with those NHL salaries,” Shitty added.

**+++**

“That Russian beaut ate like five slices of pie,” Shitty called out as he dug into Suzanne’s chicken and dumplings.

“It was more like three,” Dicky replied.

“You should have asked those boys for a picture. We could have framed it and put it on the wall,” Coach said. “Shame I wasn’t there.”

“Were they hot? I heard hockey players are all hot,” Dicky’s cousin, Jenny, asked.

“I don’t think they wanted to be bothered,” Dicky replied. “They just wanted to eat their pie in peace.”

“How do you know? Did you ask them?” Jenny asked. 

“No, but you don’t have to ask to know that people just wanna be let alone to eat in peace.” 

The Bittles sat down to family dinner which always morphed into extended family drop-in dinner. While Suzanne set places for Coach, Dicky, and MooMaw, it never failed that Shitty and Holster would always crash and then a few stray cousins on their way to or from work would stop by. Coach would jokingly say that if he charged a per plate fee, he’d be able to pay someone’s wages at The Dancing Pies for a year with that money.

Dicky put his fork down and then cleared his throat. “So, uh, Coach…”

“Hmm?”

“I was reading this article the other day about this new shipping system that lets you ship foods faster than UPS or FedEx and I was thinking…”

Coach shook his head. “Shipping? Now, we don’t wanna get into the shipping business, do we? We’re in the pie business.”

“Dicky, pass me the gallon of milk,” Holster called out.

Dicky frowned and shoved the milk over. “Well, it’s just that since the pies are getting more and more recognition, we should start thinking about shipping them and—”

“Junior, that’s just opening up a whole can of worms. Why fix something if it ain’t broke?”

Dicky glanced at his MooMaw, she nodded imperceptibly at him.

“Rick, there might be something to shipping. Even if we just start small… but what do I know?”

Coach finished chewing, then looked at MooMaw. 

“Maybe. Guess it don’t hurt to look into it and see what the experts think.”

MooMaw took a drink of her sweet tea and winked at Dicky. 

“Hey, Holster,” Jenny yelled out, “next time you wanna ditch your latest girlfriend, can you maybe not send her a picture of me as proof of her replacement?”

“Shoot, who was it?” Holster asked.

Jenny shrugged. “Hell if I know. Mindy? Mandy? She was way too good for you, that’s for sure.”

“Well, which one?”

“God, you’re gross,” she replied as she laughed. “Alls I know is, I was shopping for nail polish and she practically accosted me at the CVS for ‘taking her man.’”

Everyone laughed as Jenny punched Holster in the arm.

“I’m through being your fake girlfriend. Stop using my picture and just break up with these poor girls and do it like a man,” Jenny said dryly. 

“I am doing it like a man!” Holster cried out. “Cowardly and without shame.”

The doorbell rang and Dicky jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

It was his Aunt Judy with two of Dicky’s baby cousins in tow. Braxtan and Craigory were seven and nine and the biggest brats Dicky had ever had the misfortune to encounter. 

“Oh look, it’s the babies,” Suzanne called out from the kitchen. “Come and give your Auntie Suze some sugar.”

Dicky rolled his eyes and he closed the door. 

“Hey, Dicky,” Aunt Judy called out as she flung her sweater and the kids’ hoodies on the couch.

“Hungry?” Coach asked.

“What? Is it dinner time?” she said as she grinned.

Dicky laughed and went over to get them some plates.

“Hey, MooMaw,” Aunt Judy called out. “Hey, everybody. Boys, go say hello.”

“Judy, your sister made some chicken and dumplins,” MooMaw said as she moved her chair over. 

“We don’t wanna eat,” the kids both whined. “Can we play Smash Bros with Cousin Holster and Cousin Bertie?”

Shitty drained his glass and let out a small burp. “Well, only if you’re ready to get your asses kicked.”

“Shitty!” Judy called out. “Watch your language.”

“Yeah, _Shitty_ ,” Holster said as he flung a wadded up napkin at him.

The kids doubled-over with laughter as Shitty apologized and Holster snorted and yelled out something about a “passion for smashin'.” Judy and Suzanne began chattering away about jam, Coach and MooMaw recounted the latest neighborhood gossip as Jenny gave her two cents, and Dicky smiled as he looked at his family. They were loud as hell, but they were his.

 

That night as Dicky sat back in bed, he pulled up his phone and Googled the Atlanta Thrashers. He knew shit about hockey but it seemed like he’d been wasting his time cheering on Coach and his footballers because, apparently, Jenny was right. All the good-looking men were hockey players.

He scrolled down the team’s website until he reached Zimmermann at the end of the roster. And there was the most good looking man of them all. Granted, his photo looked like a mug shot—nary a smile to be found, but still. 

Jack L. Zimmermann, #1. Captain. Born on August 3, 1990. Birthplace: Montréal, Quebec, Canada. Forward, shoots right. And he stood at an appropriate climb-like-a-tree height of 6 ' 1", weighing 212 lbs. 

“Mylanta,” Dicky whispered. He swore if he had pearls, this is when he could have clutched them. 

A bunch of numbers appeared to the right of his photo, and Dicky assumed they were his stats, though he didn’t know what any of it meant.

“‘Jack Zimmermann has won the Stanley Cup once with the Thrashers, has an Olympic gold medal, and the World Cup with Canada,’” he read. Dicky’s eyes flit across the screen; it seemed Jack was quite accomplished.

“'Overcoming great obstacles early in his career, Zimmermann took a hiatus from hockey then attended Samwell University where he received his undergraduate degree in history. Zimmermann was captain of the Samwell team and was signed by the Thrashers upon graduation. His career has only moved forward since then…'”

Dicky wondered what great obstacles Jack had overcome, but then felt like he was intruding. He looked at Jack’s photo once more time and turned off his phone.

“Well, Señor Bun, that was exciting while it lasted, huh?” 

He snuggled up with Bun and drifted off to sleep preparing for another day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and kudos! <333 Next update will be next week, where Jack and Bitty finally get to know each other.


	3. Frump Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hey,” a voice said behind him, “aren’t you that baker?”_
> 
> _“Huh?” Dicky said as he turned around and was met with one Jack Zimmermann standing behind him with a stack of paperbacks and a mile-wide smile on his face._

One of the things Dicky loved about The Dancing Pies was that apart from being closed on Mondays, it closed at three o'clock every day. This gave him some time to relax away from both the restaurant and his family. He loved his family, but they could be _a lot_ so he’d drive into Atlanta, have an honest-to-goodness quiet lunch, visit some shops, and recharge. 

His routine was the same. He’d stop at Le Cookery which was a tiny shop with excellent bakeware where he’d chat with the owner, Barb. Next, he’d walk over to Peachtree Books, peruse the magazine section, hit up the cookbooks, and finally make his way to fiction. He’d then have a latte in their cafe. Afterward, he’d eat lunch at the crêpe place and head back home. This was Dicky’s Monday afternoons.

On this particular Monday, however, he stopped at the bookstore first. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. And so, as Dicky was nose deep in a book about Indian curries (for there were other things in the world to cook besides pie) he heard someone clear their throat.

“Hey,” a voice said behind him, “aren’t you that baker?”

“Huh?” Dicky said as he turned around and was met with one Jack Zimmermann standing there with a stack of paperbacks and a mile-wide smile on his face.

“Oh god,” Dicky said. “Yeah, that’s me. I mean, I’m him.” 

He gave a small wave.

“I thought so,” Jack said. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

The two stared at each other, then Jack cleared his throat again. 

“So, how are you?” Jack asked as a paperback slipped off the top of the stack. He clutched at them wildly to keep the rest from falling.

“Here, let me help you,” Dicky said with a small laugh as he picked up the book and put it back just as another slid down. 

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. “Um, how’s the business? As good as your pies are, I bet it’s really raking in the _dough_ , huh?”

“Lord, you did not just say that,” Dicky said and tried to suppress a laugh.

Jack looked sheepish. “Yeah… I guess I did.”

“Wow.”

Jack smiled and shrugged.

“You, uh, look different.”

Dicky frowned and instantly recalled how he looked compared that afternoon. 

He thought he looked pretty cute when he left the house that morning. He wanted to feel good about himself for himself—but now, here was all 6’ 1”, 212 pounds of Jack Laurent Zimmermann commenting on the difference in his appearance and he had instant delayed mortification.

“Uh… when you came in the other day? I was frump boy,” he said as he motioned at his outfit.

Jack smiled again. “Well, I don’t remember frump boy, but I do remember you.”

Dicky felt his face burn as he grinned. 

“Shopping for books, huh?” He asked Jack.

“Just getting ready for this season's roadies. I like real books?”

Dicky laughed. “You’re not sure?”

It was then Jack’s turn to blush. 

“No, I mean, I don’t like e-readers. I like real books. Genuine things.”

“Ah, yeah. I can tell,” Dicky replied. “Do you need help?”

“In general?” Jack asked as he smirked.

Dicky shook his head and took a few books from Jack.

“Here, let me.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Well, you’re very thanked.”

Dicky laughed and watched as Jack’s gaze swept across his face.

“Would you like to have some coffee with me?” Jack asked softly. “We can go to the cafe here if you don’t want to leave the store.”

Dicky nodded. 

“Okay. Sure.”

One of the things that surprised Dicky right away was how down-to-earth and easy to talk to Jack was. Talking to him, you’d think he was just a regular sweet guy and not some millionaire sports superhero. It turned out they had a lot in common. 

They were close to their parents, both knew what parental expectations were like, excelled in their respective fields, grew up on the ice (Jack with hockey and Dicky with figure skating), loved coffee, books, and sweets—though Jack had to be more restrained in his love of sweets because of work—and both were only children.

“I mean, they didn’t really plan on me being an only child, but it just worked out that way,” Jack said. “I think my mother was freaked out with how much my father actually traveled that another child seemed overwhelming to her.”

“After I was born,” Dicky said, “the doctors told mama she couldn’t have any more children. From what I hear, mama was super sad about it but my MooMaw said—”

“MooMaw?”

Dicky took a sip of his latte and said, “Yep, that’s my grandmother to you northerners.”

Jack chuckled. 

“We all have nicknames, okay?” Dicky said grinning. “I’m Dicky, my grandma is MooMaw, my dad is Coach, my cousin Adam is called Holster, my cousin Imogene is Jenny, my other cousin Bertrand is Shitty.”

Jack held up both hands. “Hold on. Shitty? I’m going to need an explanation on that one.”

“Well, when we were little my MooMaw would call Bertie by his full name when he was in trouble—which was a lot. ‘Bertrand Shelley Knight! You cut that out!’ she’d yell. I guess I couldn’t pronounce his name, so I somehow smooshed it together and just called him Shitty. I was three when I did it.”

Jack laughed. “And it stuck?”

“I guess it did! Most of my family calls him Shitty without a second thought.”

“I totally I get the nickname thing. It’s kind of a thing in hockey, too.”

“Right, Tater and _Zimmboni_?” Dicky teased.

“I swear, he keeps trying to make Zimmboni happen but he’s the only one that calls me that.”

Dicky was having such a good time, he suddenly realized he’d lost track of time and had no idea how late it was. He glanced at his watch. They’d been sitting at the cafe for almost two hours.

“Do you have to go?” Jack asked.

“I, uh, probably should. I’m usually back home by now. I could call home and let them know I’m still out, but I do have some things I should do,” Dicky said as he nervously worked the button on his cuff.

“Oh, I guess you should go then.”

“I guess.”

Dicky noticed Jack took a deep breath and shakily exhaled.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Jack asked.

“Dinner?” Dicky asked with eyebrows raised.

“Yes… like, as a date?” Jack asked as he looked down at his empty mug.

Dicky nodded and then realized Jack couldn’t see him, and so he gently placed his hand on Jack’s.

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

 

Dicky drove home in complete and utter silence. Did that just happen? What that real? He let out a nervous cackle and then realized he missed his exit on the highway. Did he honestly just spend the afternoon chatting it up with Jack Zimmermann? Did Jack “Too Perfect to be Real” Zimmermann really ask him out to dinner? There had to be a mistake. Things like that just didn’t happen to Eric Richard Bittle. They just didn’t.

He pulled up in front of his house, threw the car into park, and sat quietly digesting the afternoon only to be interrupted by the sound of his buzzing phone.

Dicky looked at it and laughed. 

**Jack** : _I had a really great time with you this afternoon._

**Jack** : _I told myself to play it cool, but why?_

**Jack** : _So I’m telling you that I can’t wait until Friday._

Oh, it was real all right.

“This boy,” Bitty said as he touched his phone screen and smiled.

**+++**

It’s not so much that Dicky meant to hide his relationship with Jack from his parents. It was just easier somehow. The fact that he was gay had nothing to do with it. Everyone in his family knew, and it wasn’t a big deal. And anyone for whom it was a big deal, well, they had Holster, Shitty, and MooMaw to contend with.

It was nice for Dicky to just have something that was his, and his alone, even if he knew it was fleeting. And Dicky was in trouble—big trouble—he knew he was falling hard after that first dinner with Jack Zimmermann.

“Where are you off to looking dapper AF?” Shitty asked from the couch as Dicky checked himself out in the hallway mirror one more time before leaving.

“Look at my baby! Dicky, you look very handsome,” Suzanne beamed while she poked her head out from the kitchen.

“Mother, I’m a grown man,” Dicky said flatly.

“You’ll always be my baby,” she replied.

“Anyway, I’m taking a pastry class… uh, in the city.”

“Pastry class? What you taking that for, Junior? Hell, you could teach the class,” Coach said.

“Just keeping sharp and making sure I’m up-to-date with any new techniques,” Dicky said ashamed at how easily he could lie to his family.

“Looking fresh, Dicky,” Holster yelled as MooMaw nudged him with her foot and shushed him so she could hear the TV. They were all sitting in the living room watching _Storage Wars_.

“God, can’t I just dress like a regular person and not some diner hobo without all y’all making a fuss?”

“Goddamnit, Dicky, do not take the lord’s name in vain,” Coach said with a smirk.

Dicky grinned. 

“Have a nice night, sugar,” MooMaw called out.

“Thanks, MooMaw! Okay, I’m leavin’. Be back by ten.”

Shitty looked at Dicky with an intense stare. “Hmm. Have fun… in class.”

Dicky frowned and quickly walked out the front door.

Dicky pulled into Ink and Quill’s parking lot and immediately wondered if he was dressed okay for the place. It looked a lot nicer than what he anticipated. It was too late to go home and change now. He tossed on his cardigan, straightened his collar and walked in.

“Good evening,” the host said. “Table for one?”

“Um, no, I’m meeting a friend. Not sure if he’s here yet?” Dicky said nervously. “Zimmermann?”

“Yes, this way. He arrived twenty minutes ago.”

Dicky frowned. Was he late? He looked at his watch and it was seven, right on the dot. 

As they approached the table, Dicky could see Jack repeatedly smooth down his hair. He then grabbed a spoon and looked as though he was trying to see his teeth’s reflection in it.

He looked up, saw Dicky, and immediately tossed the spoon back onto the table.

“Here you go, sir. Your server will be right with you. Enjoy.”

Jack popped up out of his seat and smiled, then motioned awkwardly toward the chair.

“Hi, um. Here, have a seat.”

Dicky smiled. “Okay, thanks?”

They sat across each other and smiled, then both spoke at the same time.

“Am I late?” Dicky asked as Jack said, “You look really nice.”

“Thanks, Jack. You look very nice, too.”

“Thanks. And no, you’re not late. I didn’t want to risk being late… so I guess I got here a bit early.”

The two smiled shyly at one another.

“This is a nice place,” Dicky said then took a sip from his water goblet. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but someone from my team recommended it. I guess they came here with their wife for their anniversary. It's supposed to be… romantic,” Jack said with a squeak in his voice.

“Oh.” Dicky smiled as Jack wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Jack, are you nervous?”

Jack took a long drink of his water and nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”

Dicky giggled. “Yeah, me too.”

Jack let out a whoosh of air. “Really? How long?” 

“Oh, you know. Since, like, never.” Dicky said.

“Never?” Jack asked.

“See, so in the grand scheme of things, guess you have less to be worried about than me, right?” Dicky said sweetly.

Jack looked charmed and smiled.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Welcome to Ink and Quill,” their server said as he handed them each a menu. “Have you dined with us before, or is this your first time?”

“First time,” Jack said. 

“Well, welcome. Our specials tonight are a braised pork shoulder with satsuma, peanut and turmeric glazed carrots; a hasselback sweet potato with black lentils and yuzu; and char-grilled octopus with roasted potatoes and lemon asparagus.”

Dicky raised his eyebrows at Jack and mouthed, “Fancy,” as Jack smirked. 

“Can I get you started with a drink?”

“Is red okay?” Jack asked Dicky.

“Perfect.”

“Can we have a bottle of the Stag’s Leap malbec?”

“Certainly. I’ll be back shortly.”

Dicky studied the menu delighted at all the choices. 

“It all looks so good. I’m thinking about the sirloin with the bone marrow and smoked cranberry sofrito. What about you?”

Jack’s brow crinkled as he studied the menu intently.

“Toss up between the cauliflower risotto with smoked almond or the crispy red rice with butternut squash.”

“Those sound yummy. No, meat, huh? Are you trying to eat healthier?” Dicky asked.

“No, I’m--I’m a vegetarian,” Jack said, almost sounding embarrassed.

“Oh, neat,” Dicky replied. “For health reasons or—”

Jack shrugged. “A little bit of both. For me, I just feel less sluggish on the ice when I don’t eat meat, and just prefer not to.”

Dicky looked at the menu, feeling strange about ordering the sirloin.

“Dicky, get your steak if that’s what you want. I mean, I don’t begrudge anyone for eating meat. It’s a personal choice, right?”

“It won’t freak you out?” Dicky asked. “I can order something else, honest.”

“Get whatever you want. Please don’t change because of me,” Jack said with an easy smile. “Besides, I can’t stand a pushy vegetarian.”

“Can you, um…”

“What?” Jack asked gently.

“Can you call me Eric?”

“Eric?”

“Yeah, that’s my real name. Eric Richard Bittle.”

Jack smiled. “Okay, Eric.”

And just like in the cafe, they fell into an easy, comfortable conversation. All throughout dinner they talked about Jack’s childhood, his difficult time during his late teens, how he found his way and fell in love with hockey once again when he went to Samwell. 

“I met a lot of great people while I was there, and our team manager became my best friend. Lardo. You’d really like her.”

“Lardo, huh? Hockey nickname?”

Jack laughed and nodded.

“Is she still out east?” Dicky asked.

“Yeah, we don’t get to see each other as often as I would like, but we have weekly Skypes to try to catch up.”

He then told Dicky how easily he felt at home with the guys in the Thrashers. Tater had become one of his best friends on the team.

Soon, Dicky confided in Jack that he wanted more for his life than just The Dancing Pies and his very large, overbearing extended family. He would love to have his own restaurant that he could manage as he saw fit. 

“There are certain things I know we could be doing better, but Coach refuses to see things any other way but his own—unless MooMaw intervenes. But I’m a grown-up, Jack. I can’t have my granny fightin’ my battles for me.”

“Maybe it’ll happen one day,” Jack said encouragingly.

“And my mama, well she’ll forever see me as her Little Dicky. It’s really frustrating.” 

“I think most parents have a hard time realizing their kids have grown. I know my parents still see me, from time to time, as this fragile thing that’s teetering on the edge of… whatever. I have to constantly remind them that I’m almost 30 and not their 18-year-old disaster son.”

“I don’t think they see you as a disaster,” Dicky said gently.

Jack shrugged. “I know. It took a lot of therapy and communication for me to see that. So it’s hard for me to think of others seeing me like that. But I’m a good person, you know?” 

Jack took a breath and a drink of wine. 

Dicky smiled at Jack. “I know, Jack.”

Jack looked down at his glass, and Dicky saw his cheeks pink.

The two continued conversing throughout dinner and dessert and when the bill came, neither one wanted to call it a night.

“I know we just had dessert, but there’s a great little gelato and espresso place down the street from here. Would you like to take a walk there and get some? If you feel up to it.”

“I’d like that very much,” Dicky said.

They walked down the street to the gelato place; shoulders and arms gently bumped into one another as they continued talking while eating their frozen treats. They stopped at a park near the restaurant and sat on a bench.

“The heat here was the biggest adjustment,” Jack said with a laugh. “I couldn’t believe how hot it was in July. Thank god it’s not sweltering most of the season.”

“From New England to Atlanta. Yeah, the heat will get you, Mr. Hockey-Playing-Vegetarian-History Major.”

Jack smiled. “I feel like you know all about me, and I hardly know about you.”

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I disagree, Eric.”

“There's not much more to tell, really.”

“You’re an accomplished baker, you maybe want to open up your own shop one day, you’re an only child, you figure skated competitively when you were younger, you love books and music, and you’ve lived here your whole life.”

Dicky took a lick of his cone. “That’s pretty much it.”

“What are your parents like? Your cousins? Your MooMoo?”

“MooMaw,” Dicky laughed, “not MooMoo.”

“Well?”

Dicky sighed. “You have two cousins, right?” 

Jack nodded.

“Well, I have 18. Eighteen, Jack! And that ain’t even counting all of their kids. And my whole Southern family is big and loud… and everybody's always in each other's business. You never have a minute alone to just think, unless you leave the house—which I make it a point of doing at least once a week otherwise I might murder someone—because we're always together eating, being nosey, shouting and complainin’ and most people think we’re fighting but that’s just how we communicate.”

“Wow,” Jack said as he tried not to laugh.

“No one in my family has ever gone out with someone who wasn’t from the neighborhood or knew someone’s parents or their parents’ parents, much less from the South. No one.”

Jack’s smile turned into a semi-frown as Dicky continued.

“And you're… well, god, you're just, you know, wonderful.” Dicky sighed again. “But I just don't see how this is going to work out. Jack, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

Jack studied Eric for a moment. 

“Work out? What's there to work out? Sure, I’ve been called a hockey robot before but we're actually not a different species, Eric. We come from different backgrounds. So what. You've got a weird family. Who doesn't?”

Dicky shrugged helplessly as Jack smiled.

“Eric, you know what’s one thing that bugs me about my team?”

Dicky shook his head.

“They keep trying to set me up with people who were not right for me. ‘Zimmboni, you lonely!’ ‘Jack, you need a special friend!’ But they all just seemed the same to me, every single person they set me up with was without personality, without life. The guys were just try-hards who wanted some NHL bro they could hook up with, and the girls were all one-dimensional flat-ironed people who were in love with the idea of being a WAG and not interested in getting to know me.”

Jack scooted a bit closer as he continued. 

“My life? It’s not this glamorous thing or whatever you think it is. Apart from when I’m playing, it's pretty boring. I trudge along day-to-day. And then, I met you… and you're interesting and beautiful and funny, and you just want to get to know me. The real me. So, I just want to spend some time with you. You know?”

“You think I'm beautiful?” Dicky said in an almost-whisper.

“Yes.”

Dicky and Jack locked eyes, and Jack slid an arm around his waist. 

"Is this all right?"

“Yes.”

Jack leaned in and cupped Dicky’s face as his eyes fluttered shut. The kiss was tender and sweeter than any gelato either of them had tasted that night.

**+++**

Dicky sank into this bed and could not get rid of the smile that was plastered on his face. He took Señor Bun into his arms and squeezed him tightly as he exhaled. He then whispered in his ear.

“Bun, I really like him. Oooo boy, do I. What’s gonna happen?”

His smile grew wider and he kicked his feet in bed and laughed to himself. Soon, he began to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Jack's a vegetarian. Can hockey players can be vegetarian? Sure, just ask [George Laraque](https://www.instagram.com/georges_laraque/?hl=en).
> 
> I can't wait for you to read the next chapter. It's really cute!


	4. Bitty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Dicky get cozier, and the newly-renamed Bitty meets the team. Also, a nod to the OYO scene in canon. <3

“How was the pastry class?” Suzanne asked as she fried some bacon for BLTs while Dicky waltzed into the kitchen. “You got home late. I was worried.”

“It was so good,” Dicky said with a dopey smile. “Just... really, really good.”

“That good, huh?” Shitty asked from behind his coffee mug. 

“Do you live here now, or?” Dicky asked with eyebrow arched.

Shitty volleyed with a brow of his own.

“And everything go good at the restaurant today, baby? You weren’t too tired from staying out late?” Suzanne asked. “Shitty, honey, you want one or two sandwiches, sugar?”

“Two, please. Thank you, Auntie Suze. You’re the greatest, bestest aunt, ever.”

Dicky rolled his eyes at Shitty who winked at him and flipped him off behind his coffee mug.

“Good,” Dicky said. “Today’s pies were marzipan apricot, chocolate pecan, blackberry lavender, spicy flan, peach, and I made a maple-crusted apple for the first time.”

“Maple-crusted apple? Yum!” Suzanne asked. 

“Uh-huh…” Dicky said as he spun around in the kitchen. “I was just inspired.”

“Holster, Zeke, and I are going to Strikers for a couple games. We’re gonna play against some ladies that Holster met the other day,” Shitty said with a mouth full of BLT. “Wanna come? Two dollar PBRs, man.”

“Sounds fun, but sorry, I can’t. I have another class tonight,” Dicky said. He swiped a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter.

“How convenient for you... and the class,” Shitty said.

“Oh hush,” Dicky replied and threw a napkin at him.

**+++**

Dicky’s third date with Jack—because Jack considered the bookstore cafe their first date, and Dicky happily agreed—was just as good as the other two, if not better.

They had dinner at a sushi place where Dicky hand-fed Jack vegetable tempura and then afterward, they went to a movie and made out in the back row of the theater. It was the best movie Dicky never saw.

Jack brushed a kiss against Dicky’s temple. He stroked the back of his neck and spoke low in Dicky’s ear. 

“I was wondering...”

“Yes?”

“It’s very important.”

“Oh?”

“Do you want some popcorn, and if so with or without butter?”

Dicky breathed out a laugh. “Sure.”

By dates four and five, Dicky knew he was definitely falling hard for Jack. It made it so much worse having to hide their relationship but Dicky just rationalized his decision by telling himself that if it were to get really serious, he’d introduce Jack to his family. Of course, Dicky knew it was getting serious, but he just decided to let a couple weeks go and put a pin on his family for now.

Jack and Dicky had been seeing each other for a month now and the reality of the season beginning was a sober reminder that their time together was becoming limited. So they made plans to spend an entire Monday together.

“There’s an all-day food workshop going on in the city. I should come back refreshed and with plenty of ideas,” he said during breakfast.

Suzanne poured Dicky some more juice. 

“You sure are doing a lot of professional development lately. You must be gunning for Coach’s job.”

Coach laughed. “Well, as long as it keeps giving you that pep in your step. Boy, you’ve been working like nobody’s business cranking out your best pies yet.”

Dicky hummed to himself and smiled.

After breakfast, he set his GPS for Jack’s Virginia Highland apartment and added the address for the Whole Foods just down the street. He took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. This was his first time visiting Jack’s place, and while they made out plenty—oh, yes!—they were finally going to be completely alone where things might lead to more.

Dicky arrived at Jack’s with tote bags full of brunch and dinner fixings and waited nervously for Jack to open the door.

Jack's smile fell when he saw Dicky’s bags. 

“You went to the store already?” He asked as he took one of the bags.

“Yes, because I knew you’d insist on paying for everything if you went.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

Dicky pursed his lips and Jack quickly gave him a kiss.

“Come in,” Jack said.

Jack looked adorable, of course. He wore one of his old college t-shirts, some comfy basketball shorts, and was barefoot.

“We can put the stuff in the kitchen, and I’ll show you around.”

Dicky gasped when he saw the kitchen. It overlooked a small park across the street and was bathed in sunlight. The appliances were all stainless steel, the roomy white cabinets had glass fronts, and the counters were a pearly grey granite. 

“Jack, honey, your kitchen is beautiful!” 

“I hoped you’d like it,” Jack said. 

They unpacked their groceries as Dicky described the brunch menu, then Jack took them on a tour.

“Maman picked out most of the furniture for me. I’m kinda hopeless but I did add some of my own touches.”

They walked through the apartment and Dicky loved how _Jack_ the place felt. It was understated but there were signs of Jack everywhere from his framed college jersey on the wall to photos of his parents on the coffee table. Jack paused in front of a large photo that hung on the wall.

“I took that my senior year. I’ve always liked that bridge,” Jack said fondly.

“It’s a great photograph,” Dicky replied.

They walked to Jack’s small office and the guest room, then finally made it to the master bedroom.

“So, this is my, euh, bedroom,” Jack said as they peered into the room.

Dicky inhaled and walked in. 

The enormous bed was made up in some soft butter yellow sheets. The room was warm and sunny thanks to the floor to ceiling windows.

“So, yeah. This is all of the apartment,” Jack said with a croaky voice as he stood by the closet door.

“It’s, uh, nice, Jack.”

Dicky walked over to Jack.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

The two looked at each other, then Dicky jumped into Jack's arms and wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist as they began to kiss wildly. Jack stumbled back toward the bed as they fell on it, not breaking their kiss.

 

It was the best brunch the two had ever had. Dicky smiled as he swayed his hips while he sang and popped the quiche into the oven.

“Another mimosa?” Jack asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Dicky replied. 

Jack poured some more prosecco and orange juice into a flute and handed it to Dicky as he wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“You look so good in my jersey,” Jack said.

“Thank you, Mr. Zimmermann.”

They made their way back to the living room and sat on Jack’s floor cushions eating the fruit salad made to accompany the quiche, and they couldn’t stop grinning.

“I’m starvin’,” Dicky said.

“Me too,” Jack said with a mischievous grin. “Someone wore me out.”

Dicky gasped with mock indignation as Jack snorted out a laugh. The two ate in comfortable silence, and it was so lovely to just sit and enjoy each other’s presence.

“So,” Jack finally said.

“Yes?”

Jack reached over to the couch and pulled something from behind the pillow. He handed Dicky a small box that contained a Jack Zimmermann OYO toy.

“Eric, I don’t want to date anyone else… and I hope you don’t either. Will you be my boyfriend?” 

“Oh my god! What is this?” 

“They sent everyone their toys that just came out. I figured you might want—”

Dicky bounced up and down. "Eeee!" 

“Okay,” Jack said with a smile. He then stared at Dicky nervously who pressed the box to his chest.

“Why're you looking at me like--oh! Jack! Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend, sweetheart.” 

“It's been over a month. I figured we should be official.”

Dicky crawled toward Jack and kissed him.

“I don’t want to date anyone else either. You are the sweetest, silliest, handsomest boy on the planet.”

Jack pulled Dicky into his lap and kissed him deeply. The kiss evolved into something more and they almost missed hearing the oven timer go off. 

**+++**

One night, they were parked a few houses down from Dicky’s and were busy making out when Jack pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” Dicky asked as he nibbled on Jack’s neck.

“Nothing, as long as you keep doing that,” he said with a soft laugh. “But, I wanted to ask you something.”

It was now Dicky’s turn to pull back.

“What is it?”

“My parents are coming into town in a few weeks for our Habs game, and I was wondering…”

Jack took Dicky’s hands into his. 

“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with us?”

“You want me to meet your parents?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

Dicky leaned in and kissed Jack, licking into Jack’s mouth as Jack moaned softly.

“Is that a yes?” He said in between kisses.

Dicky pressed several more kisses onto Jack’s lips. “Yes!”

“Now…” Jack kissed Dicky once more and said, “my next question is, when can I meet your family?”

“Oh, um. What for?”

“What for? Because I want to. I wanna see where you live. I want to get to know them. I want them to show me embarrassing baby pictures of you. I want to come over and have one of those big family dinners you’re always talking about. That’s what for. I can get them tickets for a game.”

“I… uh…”

“Do they even know about me? About us?”

“Well, sort of?”

“Eric.”

There was a brief pause.

“Soon, honey. Soon.”

Dicky then pounced on Jack.

“You can’t kiss this away, Eric,” Jack laughed.

“I can try,” he said with a smirk.

**+++**

Dicky mindlessly stirred a giant vat of cherry pie filling as it began to bubble on the stove. He smiled as he recalled his last date with Jack. Now that the season had officially started, they would be seeing less of each other with Jack’s roadies but they texted and Skyped constantly.

He was shaken out of his euphoric daydream when his phone buzzed. He pulled out his phone and noticed he had a Snapchat notification. Dicky had even convinced Jack to get a Snapchat account so they could send funny little snaps to one another.

It was Jack in what seemed to be a locker room. He was currently on a roadie playing against the Canes. Dicky clicked on the video and Jack’s face appeared as he waved. 

“Hey, Eric!” 

Then the phone was taken away and Jack’s face was replaced by Tater’s.

“Bitty! Send us pie! Zimmboni miss you!” 

Dicky laughed as he heard the cheers and chirps in the background of the video and then it ended.

His phone buzzed with a text.

_Sorry about that! Tater took my phone without permission._

Dicky replied. _So, he’s really gonna call me Bitty, huh?_

_I guess you’re an honorary Thrasher now :-)_

_Lucky me!_

_I miss you, Eric._

Dicky smiled and typed with a breathy sigh, _I miss you too, honey. Good luck and kill ‘em today!_

“Whatchu doing?” Shitty asked as Dicky screamed and practically threw his phone.

“What in the deep-fried hell! Do not sneak up on me like that. Do I need to put a bell around your neck?” Dicky yelled.

“Not really into that, but your kink is not my business--nor do I shame a grown up’s private life,” Shitty replied as he wagged his eyebrows.

Dicky smacked Shitty on the chest. He turned off the pie filling and pulled the pot off the burner.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Bertrand?”

“Coach was just wondering how much longer on those apple pies? I guess the people who ordered them just called asking if they can pick them up at two instead of three.”

Dicky looked at his watch. “Fine, two will be fine.”

“All right. Now go back to your porn or whatever,” Shitty smirked as he exited.

Dicky opened his mouth to protest but just shook his head.

**+++**

Three weeks later, Dicky drove to the State Farm Arena and steadied himself for meeting both Jack’s parents and the entire team. He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror and exhaled slowly as he closed his eyes and counted backward from ten to one. 

“Okay, Eric. Let’s do this.”

Dicky had been to the State Farm Arena for some figure skating competitions a few years back but he’d never gone for a game. He went through security and was met with a giant mural of his boyfriend and his teammates looking scary and ready to throw down their gloves. He was also surprised to see that Will Call not only had his tickets, but also a lanyard with some sort of pass attached to it, along with a note from Jack. 

_Bits, come to the locker rooms. Just ask any usher to show you the way and show them your pass. Text me when you’re coming. - Jack_

“Bits,” Dicky said to himself with a smile. 

He whipped out his phone and took a selfie with Jack in the background, put the lanyard on, and found an usher by his section entrance.

“Um, excuse me? Can you please take me to the Thrasher locker room? I’m a guest of Jack Zimmermann.” Dicky waved his pass awkwardly and the usher nodded.

“This way, please.”

Dicky sent Jack a quick text and followed the usher. When they arrived, Jack was waiting outside.

“Thanks, Mike,” he said.

“No problem, Mr. Zimmermann.”

The two smiled at each other. Jack had a healthy, ruddy glow--and Dicky just wanted to eat him alive.

“Well, Mr. Zimmermann. Fancy meeting you here,” Dicky said.

Jack smiled broadly and leaned in a little closer to Dicky, intimately invading his space.

“You made it here okay? No problems?”

Dicky shook his head. “Nope, my only problem is how to keep myself from kissin’ you.”

Jack smirked. “Who said you have to?”

He bent down as Dicky got on his tiptoes and the two pressed several kisses onto each others’ lips. 

The door to the locker room behind them suddenly opened and Tater yelled out, “Say cheese, Zimmboni and Bitty!”

He took a couple of pictures with his phone, the flash annoyingly stung their eyes.

“Tater!”

“B, come inside and meet crew,” Tater said as he took Dicky by the hand.

A small group crowded around Dicky, eager to say hello.

“Bitty, this is Thirdy, Marty, Guy, Poots, Snowy, and Ransom.”

Dicky was thrust in front of them and felt his cheeks begin to burn. 

“Oh, um. Hi… hello. I’m Eric.”

Thirdy grinned, “Nah, you’re Bitty now. Consider yourself officially renamed.”

“So, you’re the kid who’s been making this one over here so moony-eyed,” Marty said. He had an accent similar to Jack’s.

“ _Ça suffit_!” Jack said though Dicky had no clue what that meant -- only that it made Marty roar with laughter.

“You’re meeting Jack’s parents, huh?” Thirdy said. “Good ol’ Bad Bob and Alicia. Jack has never brought anyone back here, or much less to meet his parents.”

“‘Chyeah,” Ransom called out and offered Bitty a fist bump. “We’re glad someone finally thawed this hockey robot.”

“Okay, guys, you don’t need to give Bitty the intel all at once,” Jack said bashfully.

“Shit, but that’s where the fun part comes in,” Snowy said as he winked at Bitty.

“B is good guy!” Tater said. “Let’s not scare him away. Zimmboni would kill us.”

Dicky laughed and instantly felt as ease.

“You have to promise that you’ll go out to dinner with us next time you’re here,” Ransom called out. 

“I will. Promise,” Dicky said. “Have a good game, guys.”

Jack walked Dicky out and closed the door behind him.

“If you knew how to play hockey, I’m sure they’d trade you for me in a heartbeat,” Jack said. “They love you already.”

“I’m sure I can learn. How hard can it be?” Dicky chirped. “I already got the skating part down.”

Jack smiled and pulled Dicky into his arms.

“You feel good,” Jack said as he pressed his lips to the top of Dicky’s head. “Smell good, too.”

Dicky melted into the embrace. 

“Okay, I better get back in there before the guys come looking for me. My parents are probably in their seats already, and I told them to look out for you. Don’t be shy! They’re really outgoing. It’ll be fine.”

“I feel so ill-equipped. I don’t even have a pie to buy their love with,” Dicky said with a chirpy grin.

“Guess you’ll just have to rely on your natural charm which you have in abundance, by the way,” Jack said with a smile. 

He leaned in and gave Dicky a kiss. Dicky rose to his toes and cupped Jack’s face.

“I gotta go. Love you! See you after the game,” Jack said and gave him a quick wave as he headed back to the locker room.

He then froze in place and slowly turned to look at Dicky. The look on Dicky’s face was priceless.

“Um… what?” Dicky whispered, eyes wide.

“ _Merde_ ,” Jack said as he scrubbed his face. “I mean, I don’t mean _merde_ \--I just… that’s not how I pictured that going at all.”

Dicky smiled. “You love me?”

Jack nodded, approached Dicky again and took his hands.

“The thing you have to know about me is that I don’t do things by half. I’m always 110%--and I know that can be a lot, but I just don’t believe in wasting time. Not after all I’ve been through. I know it’s early, but I do. I love you, Eric.”

“I love you, too, Jack.”

The two beamed at one another, and Dicky finally snapped out of his love-induced brain freeze.

“Okay, now go and kick some Hab ass. I’ll see you after the game. We’ll talk some more, I promise.”

Jack nodded as he gave Dicky a brilliant smile and ran back into the locker room to get ready for the tunnel. Dicky, meanwhile, had to get ready to meet the Zimmermanns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ça suffit = That's enough
> 
> Oh, Jack 110% Zimmermann, you never disappoint.
> 
> Next up, Dicky meets Bob and Alicia. Come on, they're gonna love him. No worries. What I am worried about is that I haven't finished the chapter yet, which means I am totally not going to finish the entire thing before Wednesday when the semester begins. Okay, let's see.


	5. Personal Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dicky meets Bob and Alicia, and the shit(ty) hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's a holiday, so yay, I was able to pound this out and start on the next chapter (and have decided that I have to add one more chapter.)
> 
>  

Dicky was walking on air the entire way back to his seat until he realized he’d be meeting his boyfriend’s parents—his boyfriend whom he loved. Loved!

“Lord,” he mumbled to himself trying to calm his nerves.

As he made his way down the stairs, closer and closer to the glass, he saw them. A blonde head and a salt and pepper one turned back repeatedly to look up the aisle. The man looked just like Jack and the woman, who was gorgeous, had Jack’s eyes.

Dicky double-checked the seat number as he approached and caught her eye. The two looked at each other and her face blossomed into an enormous smile. 

She jumped up and out of her seat and waved and the man, who was presumably Jack’s dad, looked up at his wife then quickly turned toward Dicky and began to wave as well. 

“Eric?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Eric Bittle, pleasure to meet you.”

“Bob, look at him. He’s adorable!” Alicia said as she gripped Dicky’s hand.

“I’m Alicia and this Bob,” she said as she pumped his hand a few times. “We’re so very happy to meet you, Eric.”

“Have a seat! Let’s sit,” Bob said and scooted back and made room so Dicky could sit between them. “Here.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Dicky said.

Dicky looked at Bob, then Alicia, then back to Bob as they both had near maniacal smiles on their faces.

“So you and Jack, eh?” Bob finally said. “How’d he land someone as hot as you?”

“Bobby!” Alicia said as she laughed and slapped Eric on the shoulder. “Don’t mind him, he’s a total joker. You met at the pie shop, right?”

“Which I still can’t believe he ate pie,” Bob interjected.

“Right?” Alicia said. 

“Uh, yes—”

“Bobby, go get us some drinks,” Alicia said. “Do you drink, Eric? Sorry, I should have asked first.”

“N-not, like, daily or anything, ma’am,” Dicky replied nervously.

“Bobby, go get us a couple rounds of margaritas.”

“Salt?” Bob asked.

“Salt,” Alicia asked Dicky, his hand still in hers.

“Sure? Thank you, sir.”

“Be right back,” Bob said as he quickly ran off.

Dicky sat there, his mouth open as Alicia smiled at him. He then began to laugh.

“Oh my lord!” he said in between peals of laughter.

“What’s so funny,” Alicia asked as she began to join him.

“I was so nervous about meeting you both. I thought you’d be as quiet and shy as Jack, but boy!” 

Alicia laughed some more and then frowned. 

“I’m sorry! We’re a bit much, aren’t we? We’re just so excited to meet you, and I swear, we’re not quiet—as you can already tell. Bobby and I have no idea where Jack got his silent gene from.”

Dicky exhaled feeling much more relaxed and settled.

“I’m really happy to meet you, too,” Dicky said finally.

Bob returned with two box trays filled with drinks, fries, nachos and a stack of giant chocolate chip cookies.

“All right, what did I miss?” 

“I think we scared him a little, right Eric?”

“No, ma’am. You’re fine.”

“Time out.” Alicia made a T-shape with her hands. “I’m Alicia and he’s Bob. None of this ma’am and sir nonsense, okay?”

“I’m Southern! I can’t help it,” he said with a laugh. “I promise I’ll try.”

Bob doled the margaritas and the music in the stadium grew louder.

“Almost time,” Bob said. “Is this your first Thrashers game?”

“It is. Jack tells me you used to play a little, sir?” Dicky said as he licked the salt on his rim and took a small sip.

“A little?” Bob asked with eyebrows raised.

Alicia looked at Dicky as if she had just heard the greatest thing ever.

“Oh, I really like you,” Alicia laughed.

“I--I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t really follow hockey before meeting Jack,” Dicky stuttered.

“Wow! That’s great. Amazing, in fact,” Bob said as Alicia nodded enthusiastically. 

“Jack had to explain all the rules to me—I hadn’t even seen a hockey game before meeting him.” 

“Wow,” Bob repeated.

The lights grew dim and the Thrashers theme song began to blare through the speakers as blue and white spotlights began to twirl around the stadium. The crowd grew wild.

“And now, welcome to the ice your Atlanta Thrasherrrrrrrrs!”

Dicky jumped up and down as Bob and Alicia cheered and howled. They all smiled at each other and went bonkers when Jack took the ice.

**+++**

Alicia, Bob, and Dicky waited for Jack at an Italian restaurant after the game. 

“What a humdinger of a game, huh?” Bob said. “A hat trick! Looks like someone was trying to impress his boyfriend, eh?”

Alicia chuckled as Dicky blushed. 

“Mission accomplished,” she said. “Bobby let’s place an order for some baked goat cheese so it can be here and ready as a little snack when Jack gets in. I’m sure he’s famished.”

“Sounds good,” Bob said. 

Bob ordered the goat cheese and a bottle of wine.

“So, Eric. Have you always lived in Atlanta?” Alicia asked. She took a slice from the bread basket and dipped it into her olive oil.

“No, ma’am—I mean, Alicia. Actually, I’m from Madison which is about an hour east from here.”

“And that’s where your restaurant is, right?” 

“Well, it’s my parents’ restaurant. The Dancing Pies. I make all the pies.”

“I love pecan pie,” Bob added.

“I’ll have to make some for you,” Dicky added.

“They already have you making pie?” Jack asked as shook his head and approached the table. Dicky swooned a little. He looked devastatingly handsome and glowing from his big win.

“There he is! The man of the hour,” Bob said as he rose and hugged Jack.

“Hi, papa,” Jack said sweetly. “Maman.”

Alicia thrust out her cheek and Jack pressed a kiss to it.

Jack then looked at Eric and his face lit up.

“Bits,” he said as he leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips.

“Jaaaack,” Dicky said and felt his face burn. “Your parents.”

“Psssh! Don’t mind us,” Bob said as he and Alicia sat at the table making chin hands.

Jack rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he sat down. 

Dicky caught a whiff of Jack’s shampoo, his hair still slightly damp, and felt his stomach do a little flip. This boy.

“We ordered an appetizer to tide you over till we get our food,” Alicia said.

“Thanks, maman… So, Bits. Did they behave?” Jack asked bluntly.

Alicia and Bob both gasped simultaneously.

“As if we would not,” she said while Bob nodded.

“Your parents were perfectly wonderful. I can see where you get your charm from,” Dicky replied and Bob peacocked a bit.

“It’s the patented Zimmermann charm, trademark symbol,” Bob said.

“Did you just say 'trademark symbol?'” Jack asked as he laughed.

“Did I stutter?”

Dicky laughed and felt a sweet warmth spread throughout his chest as he fell in love with the entire Zimmermann clan.

**+**

“I can’t imagine anyone being a bigger hit with my parents than you,” Jack said as Dicky balanced his phone against his pillow. Jack’s cheekbones glowed from the light of his screen. 

The dinner ended at ten and Dicky was back home and in bed 11:30. Even though they just left one another, their nightly Skype call still took place. Dicky yawned and mentally prepared himself to get up in a few hours. 

“I’m glad. I was so nervous! I even called your papa ‘Mr. Jack’s Dad’ at one point when he reminded me to stop calling him sir.”

“Maman was already asking me to invite you to Montreal for our Bye Week.”

“Are they asleep?”

“Yeah, I can hear Papa snoring all the way from the guest room.”

Dicky laughed which made Jack smiled. 

“You’re adorable and I love everything about you.”

Dicky snuggled his pillow.

“I love everything about you, too.”

“Good night, bud.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

**+++**

“What can I get you?” Dicky asked as a gigantic yawn escaped from his mouth. “Oh, lord! Pardon me.”

Holster looked over from his table and Dicky shrugged.

“Our pies today are coconut cream, dulce de leche, cherry, blackberry mint, pecan, and a Canadian bacon and cheese curd quiche.”

Dicky walked back to the counter to give his order to Shitty, and Holster quickly hustled him to the kitchen.

“Okay, Shitty and I have been noticing your weird ass behavior and now gotta ask…”

Shitty put down his spatula and trotted over toward them.

“What’s going on? I have tables waitin’,” Dicky asked.

“This is a mother fucking intervention, cuz,” Shitty state as he pounded his fist on the stainless steel counter.

“An intervention? What the hell is going on with you two weirdos?”

“Dicky, are you doing drugs?” Holster and Shitty asked in tandem.

“Drugs? Are you two out of your minds?!” Dicky cried out

“You’re constantly yawning, you looked blissed out all the time, are gone for ‘classes,’” Shitty said as Holster made the air quotes with his fingers. “It don’t add up. The other day you dropped a fucking pie. That’s akin to you dropping a baby.”

“A baby!” Holster repeated.

“So you think I’m doing drugs?!” Dicky yelled out.

“More like sellin’ them,” Holster added as Shitty nodded. “You’re too fancy to be using them.”

Coach poked his head through the door, “What’s the hold up? We got folks waiting to be served.”

“Nothing!” all three of them yelled out.

“Hurry it up, then,” Coach said calmly then closed the swinging kitchen door.

“Michelle Kwan, gimme strength!” Dicky whispered as he pushed them both away. “Lookit, I’m not sellin’ drugs, I’m not doing drugs—I’m just having a life that doesn’t involve y’all, okay? I’m entitled to a private life without my whole dang family being in it, all right? Now get me my damn patty melt, and get outta my way.”

Dicky marched back up to the front of the house. 

Those boys. 

He loved his cousins, he really did, they were like brothers to Dicky, but that was exactly why he didn’t want to bring Jack into his family life—they were too much, too nosy, too intrusive, just too _everything_ , and he was going to keep his little bubble of bliss to himself for as long as he could.

“Everything all right, Junior?” Coach asked.

“Yes, sir.”

 **+++**

It happened like this.

NHL star Jack Zimmermann unexpectedly stopped by The Dancing Pies to pick up a rather large pie order for Randall Robinson.

“It’s Snowy’s birthday today,” Jack explained.

“It’s, like, so damn cool that the team loves our pies,” Holster said as he rang up the order.

“They are the best,” Jack said as he looked around and handed Holster his credit card. “Um, can I use the restroom?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out,” Holster replied. “I’ll leave the pies on the counter.”

Jack walked the little corridor that led to the restrooms and quickly poked his head in the kitchen. No sign of Dicky.

Shitty looked up.

“Sorry! I was looking for the bathroom,” Jack said.

Shitty pointed with his spatula, “Keep going right, hoss.”

Jack waved and closed the door. He then heard a noise coming from the supply room. Jack poked his head in there and saw Dicky on a step stool as he reached for a bag of flour. 

He quickly went in and pulled Dicky down.

“Hey, beautiful!” he whispered as Dicky squeaked.

“Oh my god! You just about gave me a heart attack!” Dicky laughed. 

Jack leaned down and kissed Dicky.

“What are you doing here,” Dicky asked in a breathy whisper.

“Came to pick up some pies Thirdy ordered, and to see you. I missed you,” Jack said and gently stroked Dicky’s cheek.

“You saw me yesterday,” Dicky smiled.

“Too long ago.”

Dicky cupped Jack’s face, he looked thrilled that he could easily reach him by standing on the step stool again. They grew lost in their kiss when they heard a throat clearing and exaggerated cough that came from the door.

“Mr. Professional Development—or should I say Mr. _Personal Growth_ —nice to meet you.”

They both turned and there stood Shitty, arms across his chest, eyebrow raised.

Dicky covered his blushing face. He finally looked up and said, “Jack, this is my cousin Shitty.”

“I’m the least of your worries. I just got a text from my ma. Chessie Blalock’s daughter saw you two sucking face in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly last night, and she told my ma who just told your ma.”

Jack smiled broadly and extended his hand.

“Jack Zimmermann. Nice to meet you, Shitty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Alicia Zimmermann headcanon? The lovely [Michelle Pfeiffer](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/post/176589379179/michelle-pfeiffer-as-alicia-z).
> 
> Thanks for your comments and kudos--they really do keep me motivated.


	6. The Jig is Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of telephone results in the jig being up. What will Suzanne say?

The news spread quickly; as fast as every true Georgia-raised, corn-fed, God-fearin’ gossip-lovin’ Bittle could make it go.

Lacey Blalock was making a late night pit stop at the Piggy Wiggly and when she pulled her car back into reverse, she spotted one Dicky Bittle sucking the lips off a very, very, _very_ good lookin’ fella. 

“Mama! You’ll never guess what I saw!”

And it was at exactly 9:47 p.m. that Chessie Blalock picked up her phone and dialed with equal amounts glee and spite.

“Bertha? It’s me, Chessie. Hon, do you have a moment? I’m afraid I’m worried about your family.”

Well, of course, Bertha Knight, being of sound body and mind, immediately thought about how if her little Bertie was in a parking lot making out with some incredibly muscled young man for all the world to see, without a lick of common sense, she would want to know about it so she did what any sensible mother would do. 

“Suzie? Girl, did I wake you?”

 

Shitty sighed as he looked at Jack and Dicky, Dicky still perched on the step stool.

“So I’m minding my own business this morning making a Denver omelet, and my mother—bless her heart—sent me a text telling me to tell you that, and I quote, the jig is up. That text was then followed by Holster, Jenny, and even Zeke sending me something. Jay eff cee, brah.”

“Jig? What jig? There was a jig?” Dicky asked. “Oh lord.”

“What’s the big deal?” Jack asked. “You’re out, aren’t you? You’re a grown man. We’re two consenting adults.”

Dicky nodded then rubbed his temples.

“In an ideal world, yeah,” he said. “The big deal is that I didn’t tell anyone I was seeing somebody and they all had to find out through some nasty gossip telephone line.” Dicky shook a fist. “When I see that Lacey, ooo!”

“Is it really gossip, though, if it’s true?” Shitty shrugged. “Anyhoos, did you see your mom before you left this morning?”

“Clearly, no,” Dicky sighed.

“Well, just be prepared for the big interrogation when you get home,” Shitty said. He then looked Jack up and down. “Also, Dicky? High fives, brah! Pardon my male gaze, Jack, but hot damn!”

Jack laughed as Shitty gave him a hearty thumbs up.

**+++**

Dicky opened the front door of his house and tiptoed inside as Jack waited in his car. He insisted on coming back after practice so they could talk to the Bittles together.

“But couldn’t I just come in with you?” Jack had asked.

“Honey, it’ll be better if I talk to them first. Coach took the day off today, so they’ll be together. Just please wait in the car. I won’t be long. I promise.” 

And so Dicky made his way down the hallway where he heard hushed whispers coming from his parents in the kitchen. He stepped on the faulty floorboard and traitor that it was, it creaked signaling his presence.

“Eric Richard Bittle, Junior, please come in here. Now.”

Dicky wondered if it was too late to make a run for it with Jack.

“Hi, Mama. Coach.”

The two sat at the table, with arms crossed.

“Junior,” Coach said as a greeting.

“How did I raise you?” Suzanne asked.

“Pardon me?” Dicky said still hovering in the door jamb.

“How did I raise you?” She asked calmly.

“Well?” He squeaked out.

“I thought I did. I thought I raised a proper young man who didn’t tell bold face lies to his parents.”

Dicky glanced at Coach who gave him the tiniest you’re-on-your-own-kiddo shrug.

“I thought I raised a proper young man, who if he was dating someone would have the decency to introduce his beau to us.”

“Mama…”

Suzanne raised her hand. “I’m not finished.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She took a long sip of her iced tea, put it back down on the doily and said in a chillingly calm voice, “And more importantly, I thought I raised a proper young man who would not be making out like some horn dog teenager in the parking lot of the damn Piggy Wiggly.”

“Mama, I—”

“THE PIGGY WIGGLY!”

Dicky chewed on his bottom lip, not quite sure what to say next as Suzanne marched on.

“Is he a nice boy? I don’t know. Does he care about you? I don’t know. Who is his family? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! My son is too busy skulking around being skanky in cars instead of telling us anything about it.”

Coach let out a snort. “Skanky?” 

“Oh, stuff it, Richard,” Suzanne replied.

Dicky looked at his mother and could feel the tears begin to well in his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.”

The three exchanged glances silently.

“Jack’s so special to me, and I just wanted something for myself—something that was mine, and mine alone… I love him.”

Dicky wrung his hands.

“He’s outside. He really wants to meet y’all—and it was all me, Mama. Please don’t be mad at him. I just…”

Suzanne studied Dicky and raised an eyebrow. 

She sighed and said, “Well, bring the boy in. We don’t want to leave him outside all day. Unlike some members of this family, _I_ have manners.”

Dicky nodded and ran outside. Jack stood leaning against his car and walked quickly toward Dicky when he saw him approach.

“Bits, what happened?” Jack asked.

“Well, Mama is pissed but they want to meet you,” Dicky said and took Jack by the hand.

“Is that the Bulldogs logo painted on your garage door?” Jack asked as Dicky quickly led him to the front door.

“Uh-huh.”

“With gold paint?” Jack said as he turned to look over his shoulder for another peek.

“Yep.”

They entered the house and Dicky steered Jack toward the living room.

“Here, have a seat. I’ll bring them over.”

“Uh, I like your couch? Is this... rococo?” Jack asked as he gingerly patted the plastic-covered pink velvet. 

“It’s something,” Dicky said with a sigh.

Dicky reemerged with Coach and Suzanne in tow. Jack rose from the couch and smoothed down his hair.

“Mama, Coach, this is Jack Zimmermann. My Jack.”

“It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting Bitty’s—uh, Eric’s family.”

Suzanne and Coach’s eyes grew wide as Coach muttered, “Holy shit on a shingle. You’re Jack Zimmermann.”

“Dicky,” Suzanne whispered, “why is Bad Bob Zimmermann’s son in our living room?” 

“Have a seat, son,” Coach said.

They all sat down slowly and Jack squirmed slightly as the plastic from the couch stuck to back of his thighs.

“Jack is my boyfriend, Mama.”

“You have a lovely house,” Jack said.

Dicky looked at him and rolled his eyes.

“So when you said that Alexei Mashkov and Jack Zimmermann came to the restaurant way back when, you two hooked up?” Coach asked.

“Hooked up? Ew, Coach,” Dicky replied as Jack smirked. 

“Eric and I ran into each other at a bookstore and hit it off. You have an amazing son, Mr. and Mrs. Bittle.”

Suzanne smiled briefly, then sat a little straighter and said, “So how long have you two been seeing each other?”

Dicky paused then finally said, “Almost four months.”

“Four months? Seriously, Dicky!” Suzanne huffed.

“We don’t have a lot of money, just so you know,” Coach said. 

Dicky groaned. “Right, yes. He wants our restaurant because his NHL salary isn’t enough.”

Jack blushed and Dicky turned to face him. “Sorry, sweetpea,” he whispered.

“Look, you seem like a nice person but we need to talk to Dicky,” Coach said. “Isn’t that right, Suze?”

Suzanne nodded. 

Jack squeezed Dicky’s hand. 

“I appreciate that this situation might require some getting used to, I understand, but—and I mean this respectfully—your son is a grown man and we’re in a relationship whether you approve or not. I hope you give me a chance and get to know me because I love him, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dicky beamed as Jack rose from the couch. 

“Call me later,” he said with a soft warm voice. He turned to face the Bittles. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Bittle.”

After Dicky walked Jack out, Suzanne immediately made her way to the kitchen and began to bake. Dicky knew she was in stress bake mode but was confused as to why she would be overreacting in such a manner.

Dicky looked at Coach, and Coach shrugged.

“Go talk to your mother,” he simply said.

“Mama?”

She was flouring the counter and turned her back toward Dicky.

“He’s just so different from you—from us—Dicky. He’s a millionaire yankee.” 

“Mother, he’s Canadian!” 

“That’s still up north, young man!”

Suzanne wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and plopped herself down on the chair. Dicky sat next to her.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell us? Or me?! Me. I thought we were closer than that. When you were little, you would tell me everything.”

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Are you sure he isn’t trying to take advantage of you?”

“Advantage of me?”

“You know, you’re just so young and inexperienced… and he’s Bad Bob Zimmermann’s son.”

“Mama, I’m not some naïve waif. I don’t know what you think about Bad Bob but Jack is nothing like that—his dad isn’t either.”

“You’ve met his daddy?!” 

Coach poked his head into the kitchen. “You know he’s on your mama’s Hall Pass list, right?”

“Richard!”

“Coach Taylor’s wife from _Friday Night Lights_ is on mine,” he added quickly then left.

“Oh lord,” Dicky scrubbed his face. “I’m just learning all sorts of things today.”

“Dicky, are you and this boy really serious?”

“Yeah, mama. We are. I think he might be the one.”

Suzanne began to sob.

“Why do you wanna leave me?” She cried out.

Coach entered the kitchen with MooMaw who had just walked in as Suzanne continued sobbing.

“What’s going on here?” MooMaw asked.

“Um… it’s a long story?” Dicky said as he offered his mother another napkin.

MooMaw looked at Suzanne and rolled her eyes, while Suzanne sniffled and Dicky rubbed her back.

“Well, I just had a brief conversation outside with the nicest young man. And, my goodness, he had the best tushy,” she said.

“That was my boyfriend, Jack,” Dicky squeaked out with a blush.

“Well done, sugar!” MooMaw said with a smile. “He looks like a keeper. Such a polite young man.”

She winked at Dicky and he relieved to have someone on his side.

“Richard and Suzanne, I’m only going to say this once and then y’all can tell me to mind my own business. Dicky is a grown up. Jack is a grown up. They love each other. It's done. They fell in love. It happens. Now get over it.”

**++++**

“Do you feel like coming out with us to celebrate Snowy’s birthday?” Jack asked over the phone.

“I don’t know if I should…” Dicky replied. 

He sunk deeper into his mattress and hugged Bun with one arm. “Even though MooMaw stepped in and told ‘em point blank to get over it… I’m not sure.”

“It’s Sunday, you--you don’t have to work tomorrow... and we don’t have a game tomorrow.”

“I know. I could stay out a bit later.”

“No, uh, actually,” Jack said softly, “I was hoping you would spend the night.”

Dicky sat up in bed.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What time should I come over?”

**+**

“B! Bitty is here!” Tater yelled as Dicky and Jack walked into Thirdy’s house.

“Bitty!” Everyone called out.

“Does this mean I get special birthday pie?” Snowy asked.

“You know it!”

“And hello to you all, too,” Jack countered. “Guess I know where I stand.”

“Zimmermann, you know we all think Bitty is way too good for your ass. Of course, you know where you stand,” Thirdy replied.

Dicky laughed as everyone came to greet him, and he looked over to Jack who smiled at him as if he hung the moon.

Several slices of pie and drinks later, Dicky sat on the couch with one tiny Bella Robinson fast asleep in his lap while Jack and Tater played a game of pool.

Carrie, Thirdy’s wife, came over and sat next to Dicky.

“She’s been asking when she can visit your pie shop. And we told her soon,” Carrie said.

“She’s a total cutie pie,” Dicky said as he gently brushed the hair off her face. “She’ll be a VIP when she comes by.” 

Carrie leaned over and scooped Bella up into her arms. “Guess I should tuck her in. She tried to hang with the grown-ups. I’m surprised she made it past nine.”

“When I was little I loved staying up late at my parents’ parties. I felt so sophisticated drinking my Coke outta a red plastic cup,” he laughed.

Carrie smiled warmly at him. “We’re really glad you’re here.” 

“Thanks for inviting me,” he replied.

“No, I mean, we’re all really glad you’re here—and with Jack. We all love Jack, and I’m sure he’s told you all the horror stories of the dates we’ve sent him on. We were just worried about being him alone.”

Bella stirred in her mother’s arms, and Carrie began to rock her gently.

“And then suddenly, he’s smiling more, he’s a little bit more out of his shell, even Randy said he’s playing better and it turned out, he fell in love. We’re all just really happy for you both.”

Dicky smiled and looked over to Jack, who laughed as Tater held a pool ball in his hand and said something to Jack. Jack turned and noticed Dicky watching him. The two locked eyes and Jack’s entire expression softened as he waved at Dicky. That boy...

 

By bedtime, Dicky was exhausted. It had been an emotional day and all Dicky wanted to do was snuggle with Jack.

He shut off the bathroom light and yawned as he shuffled over to the bed. He wore Jack’s old Samwell t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, and Jack smiled as he watched Dicky.

“You are the most beautiful person in the universe, do you know that?”

Dicky smiled. “Hardly!”

“Even your toes are adorable.”

Dicky laughed and gracefully pointed his foot as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“These?”

Jack crawled over and gently took Dicky’s foot into his hands.

“These,” he said with a smile and pressed a kiss onto the arch of Dicky’s foot.

“Stop,” Dicky laughed softly. “Ticklish.”

He pulled his foot away and leaned in to kiss Jack.

Jack’s eyes fluttered shut and he happily sighed.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jack said.

“Me too. Lord, I can’t believe I just packed a bag and said I was spending the night. I mean...”

Jack smiled. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said. “You're so brave. Just... really, you are. And you don’t care about the hockey, or my money, or status—just me. _Me_. You’re the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful person in the entire world. You’re brave and you make me feel safe, and loved. I love you.” 

Dicky smiled warmly. Jack then took a deep breath and exhaled with a big whoosh.

“What’s wrong?” Dicky asked.

“I… I don't really know how to say this.” 

“What? What is it?”

“Eric, will you marry me?”

Dicky’s eyes grew wide and then it really hit him was Jack was saying. He began to bounce up and down on the bed.

“I know it might seem fast but I'm sure about us. And like I told you before, I don’t believe in wasting time. And I hope I—”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes!” he happily cried out. He threw his arms around Jack and peppered his face with kisses.

“Right on!” Jack laughed. “I guess now you can have this.”

Jack reached under the bed, pulled out a small velvet box and opened it for Dicky. He took out the ring; a simple, yet elegant, gold band with a single ruby. A delicate woven pattern, reminiscent of pie lattice, decorated the inside of the band.

“It’s supposed to remind you of a cherry pie,” Jack said nervously. “Our favorite.”

“It’s beautiful,” Dicky replied tenderly.

Jack slipped the ring on Dicky’s finger. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, of course, Jack would pick a ring that reminds him of a pie. It's cheesy, but I appreciate the romanticism in his decision.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Yay! Now we can get to wedding planning hijinks.
> 
> Thanks for comments and kudos! They keep me motivated. xo


	7. One of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dicky and Jack tell the family about the engagement, and wedding shenanigans ensue.

_“The word on the street is he’s a millionaire.”_

_“Never pegged Dicky Bittle as a gold digger.”_

_“He’s from Canada? Maybe he needs a green card?”_

_“Have you seen his ass?!”_

 

Dicky chose to ignore the gossip mongers and continue on his cloud of bliss. The next day after Jack proposed, the two went over to the Bittle household to speak with Coach and Suzanne. They had said that they wanted to have a proper dinner with Dicky’s parents so they could get to know Jack. 

“It’ll be just the four of us, they’ll see what an amazing person you are, and then we’ll casually mention our engagement,” Dicky said simply. 

“ _Casually_ mention our engagement, huh?” Jack said unconvinced. 

“Easy as pie?” Dicky replied.

Jack snorted.

By the time Jack pulled into the driveway, Dicky was smiling so hard his face hurt. Suzanne and Coach waited inside completely unaware of the impending news. Jack put the car in park and leaned over to press a soft kiss to Dicky's neck.

"However this turns out, it's going to be fine. We're a team, and I won't let anything happen to you."

The words struck a chord with Dicky. What if things didn’t turn out fine? Dating someone is a completely different ball of wax than marrying someone. Dicky smiled half-heartedly. 

They had Skyped Bob and Alicia that morning and told them the news. Alicia and Bob screamed with delight. Seeing Bad Bob Zimmermann cry online was something Dicky thought he'd ever experience, but there he was. They were so happy, and it made part of Dicky sad. He hated to feel that way. Would his parents be that happy?

"Ready?" Jack asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"I love you," Jack said reassuringly.

They exited the car and Dicky took a deep breath as he began to unlock the front door. Shitty and Holster swung it open before Dicky could finish unlocking it.

“‘Sup, Dicky?” Holster called. 

“No, no, nope, no thank you,” he yelled and shook his head. “You can't be here tonight. It's just supposed to be Mama and Coach. No family relations!”

“Okay, Bilbo Baggins, calm the eff down,” Holster cried out. 

“None of that naysaying, Dicky. We’re here to hang out with you and your mister,” Shitty said with a grin as he threw his arm around Jack's neck and walked them toward the dining room. 

“My mister?” Dicky smirked.

“Adam Birkholtz, the suave cousin of the family. Pleasure to officially meet you, dude,” Holster said as he walked beside them and offered Jack a fist bump.

Jack smiled. “Hey, man. Good to see you again. How's it going?”

“Haha, this bonding is lovely and all but still, you gotta go, okay?” Dicky said. “Jack and I have to talk to Mama and Coach.”

“You like my Thrashers shirsey?” Holster asked. “ I picked it up today.”

Jack laughed and nodded. “It’s nice, man.”

Shitty shook his head. “No can do, Jackabelle and Dicks. We’re not going anywhere. So, whatever you have planned for tonight for our little _piestro_ , you're going to have a mother fucking audience which includes MooMaw.”

“MooMaw is here, too?” Dicky cried out.

Jack's face lit up. “Piestro?!” 

Shitty bowed. “I know, right?”

“Is that them?” Suzanne called from the kitchen.

“Yes!” Shitty and Holster replied with glee.

“Hi, Mama. We're here,” Dicky replied as he swatted at his cousins.

Suzanne emerged from the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron. Coach and MooMaw followed behind her.

“Oh, hello, Jack,” Suzanne said flatly.

“Mrs. Bittle, Mr. Bittle,” Jack said as he offered his hand. “MooMaw.”

MooMaw smiled and shoved Suzanne out of the way. 

“Come here, sugar,” she said as she offered Jack her arms.

Jack bent down to give her a hug. She opened her arms to get Dicky into their hug. Shitty then piled on.

“All right. come on. Dinner is ready,” Suzanne huffed as Holster began to approach the pile with arms open. “Dicky, help me serve?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Suzanne gave Dicky the silent treatment in the kitchen as she pulled a roast out of the oven.

“Um, I thought it was just going to be the four of us,” Dicky said and transferred the mashed potatoes to the serving dish.

“Well, the boys called and said they were hungry—”

“Mama, they’re not boys. They’re grown men in their late twenties who have their own places with fully functioning kitchens.”

Suzanne waved Dicky off. “I haven’t turned them away for a meal and we’re not about to start now just because of your fancy boyfriend.”

“My fancy boyfriend? Really, Mama? That’s the hill you’re gonna choose to die on?” 

Dicky regretted the words the second they escaped from his mouth and was met with Suzanne’s glare.

“You best better think about how you’re talking to me. You may have a _fancy_ boyfriend, but I am still your mother.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dicky carried the potatoes and green beans into the dining room and Suzanne followed with the roast and some corn. Coach, MooMaw Jack, Holster, and Shitty were already seated and chatting it up as though they had been lifelong friends. Jack stood up when he saw Suzanne.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bittle,” he said. “Thank you for having me for dinner.”

“I’m glad you were able to take time out of your busy schedule to accommodate us.”

Jack sat back down and looked unsure of what to say next.

Holsters eyebrows raised. “So, uh, what’s on the menu?”

“Pot roast, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn, and green beans with bacon,” Suzanne replied as she smiled at him.

“Looks delicious, Suze,” Coach said.

It suddenly occurred to Dicky that Jack couldn’t eat most of the dinner. He looked at Jack, who mouthed _It’s okay_.

“Um, sorry, Mama. Sorry, Jack. I forgot to mention—”

“Bits, it’s fine. Please,” Jack said as he served himself some mashed potatoes and corn.

“Gravy?” Holster said as he passed the gravy boat and Jack shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“What’s wrong?” Suzanne finally asked.

“Jack’s a vegetarian,” Dicky replied.

“Oh... how interesting.”

Coach, MooMaw, Shitty, and Holster all exchanged looks.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jack replied. “I had a really big lunch earlier—”

Suzanne sighed and said, “I have some leftover tuna salad from lunch. I’ll fix you up a sandwich.”

“Um…” Jack stammered.

“He doesn’t eat fish either, Mama.”

“Well, what do you eat?” she asked.

“These potatoes look delicious,” Jack said quietly. “Really, I’m good, thank you.”

“So no BBQ?” Holster asked.

“There’s a place in Edgewood that makes BBQ seitan. It’s pretty good.”

“BBQ seitan? More like BBQ satan,” Holster mumbled as Jack laughed.

“I’m sure you get plenty of protein _other_ ways, am I right?” Shitty called out and held up a hand waiting for a high five.

“SHITTY!” Dicky yelled out as Jack turned several shades of red and MooMaw chuckled.

Suzanne coughed loudly and took a sip of water.

“Okay, let’s talk about something else, all right?” Coach said and suppressed a smile.

Everyone began to serve themselves and ate quietly. Suzanne stared daggers in Jack’s direction, while Coach tried to get the conversation going again.

“So, Jack, how long have you lived in Atlanta?”

“Almost three years.”

“And how are you liking our fair city? Peach everything up the wazoo, right?”

Jack smiled and looked at Dicky. “I’m liking it way better lately.”

Dicky grinned into his fork as he took a bite of his roast.

“Do your parents come visit often?” MooMaw asked. 

“They try. Luckily the flight is under three hours, so it’s not so bad for them to come frequently.”

“I loved your mama in that one movie where she was a lawyer fighting for clean water for a small town and everyone’s getting cancer and stuff,” Coach added.

“ _Erin Brockovich_?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That was Julia Roberts.”

“Oh… Does your mama know Coach Taylor’s wife?”

“Coach!” Dicky said with a laugh.

Suzanne smacked Coach on the arm. 

“Dicky, can you please pass the butter?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Dicky handed the butter dish and Suzanne’s eye bugged out.

“What is that?” she asked.

“What?”

“That. That on your left hand. That ring. What is that?”

Dicky pulled his hand back quickly and cleared his throat as Coach, Moomaw, Holster, and Shitty exchanged glances once again.

“Well, Mama… everyone, Jack and I have some… some wonderful and exciting news...” Dicky said as his voice began to die out.

The room was so silent, you could hear a pie drop.

Jack finally spoke. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Bittle, I love your son more than anything in the world and I realized that I never want to be without him. I need him in my life.”

He reached for Dicky’s hand and held it. “I’ve asked Eric to marry me, and he’s accepted. He makes me happy, and I hope I can make him as happy as he’s made me. We’re getting married. My parents already consider him part of the family.”

Dicky beamed as Jack gently kissed his hand.

MooMaw applauded, “Oh, Dicky! Congratulations, baby boy!”

Coach, Holster, and Shitty cheered on and when Dicky turned to look at Suzanne, he felt his heart drop. 

Suzanne got up and slowly walked to the kitchen.

“Suze,” Coach called out.

“I got her,” Dicky said as he followed her into the kitchen.

Suzanne stood by the sink and looked distraught.

“Mama?” 

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about me,” Suzanne called.

“Mama, of course, I worry about you. Can you please tell me why you’re so upset?”

Suzanne fanned her face and Dicky could see her try to will the tears away that were threatening to spill. 

"You've never really gone out with anyone before. What will you do when he breaks your heart?"

"Really mama? _When_ he breaks my heart? You’re that certain he’s going to?” 

“Dicky, like I said before, you two come from very different backgrounds. You’re in the middle of this romantic whirlwind right now and everything seems perfect, but what happens when he takes you away from here and then it all falls apart?”

Dicky frowned. 

“Mama, I have doubts about why Jack would want to be with me, believe me, I do. What could he possibly see in me? But it's really great to see my Mama has those doubts about me as well."

“When I was 16, I almost eloped.”

“What?”

“Did I ever tell you that?” 

“With Coach?”

“No, it wasn’t your daddy. His name was Kevin Farrow. This was before I met your daddy. We were in love—or at least I thought we were. And your grandpa didn’t like Kevin, at all.” 

“What happened?” Dicky asked as he sidled up next to his mother.

“Your grandpa and meemaw said I had to break up with Kevin and that was that. We thought we were so in love and grown up, we snuck off in the middle of the night and had planned on getting married.” She wrung her hands together. “You grandpa found us at the Cindee Lynn Motel the next day after Kevin had confessed to me that he didn’t want to get married and had been seeing Becky Sheffert behind my back for weeks. I was humiliated.” 

“Oh, Mama…” Dicky said. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt like I did,” Suzanne said with a weak shrug. 

“Mama, I’m a grown up. I know you’ll always want to see me as your little boy, but I’m not anymore, and I haven’t been for a long time. And if things won’t work out, then yeah, I’ll be sad but it’ll be my mistake to make.”

“Are you happy?” Suzanne asked.

“Yes, I really am. Jack is the sweetest man I’ve ever met. He’s kind and so hard-working, and just so soft and true. Mama, I trust him with my heart.”

“Dicky… you’re really getting married, huh?” She asked as she cupped Dicky’s face

Dicky nodded, “Yeah, Mama. I really am.”

Suzanne pulled Dicky into a big hug just as Coach walked in.

“Everything all right in here? We were getting a little worried about how quiet it was.”

“Rick,” Suzanne said, “looks like we have a wedding to plan.”

**+++**

“The way I see it, we have two choices, Empire Hall or—”

“Empire Hall?” Dicky said as he sat at the kitchen table with his mother. “That place is always booked. And I don’t wanna have a long engagement because I’m waitin’ on a venue.”

After Suzanne resigned herself to the fact that the boys were going to get married no matter what, she started planning for a big wedding. Soon, she realized how in love Dicky and Jack were—and that they were indeed perfect for one another. 

She had her laptop browser logged onto her Pinterest account where she had created several wedding boards.

“Agreed,” she said and jot down a note in her bullet journal. “Long engagements are for people with cold feet and too much time on their hands.”

Shitty burst in through the kitchen door carrying a recent issue of _Southern Wedding_ magazine.

“Dicks, what are your thoughts on Midnight Blue tuxedos?”

“Pardon me?”

He slapped the magazine down on the table and opened it to a dog-eared page.

“See?” He said pointing to a Tom Ford ad. “Midnight Blue. It’s all the rage, brah. It’ll be amazeballs with Jack’s eyeballs.”

Dicky smirked. “Bertrand Shelley Knight. I never thought I’d live to see the day where you would be into planning a wedding.”

“Now, while I normally frown upon the institution of marriage, I do make exceptions for exceptional couples—that being said, blue tux or?”

“Ooo, you’d look so handsome, Dicky,” Suzanne chimed in and immediately looked up the tuxedo online.

“Tom Ford is kinda expensive,” Dicky hemmed and hawed.

“I’m pretty sure your betrothed can afford it,” Shitty said.

“Nuh-uh,” Dicky shook his head emphatically. “Okay, let’s hit the pause button on this conversation. We are not having Jack pay for everything. That’s not what’s going on here.”

Suzanne and Shitty both frowned.

“Not to be crass, Dicky, but… he can afford it,” Suzanne said plainly.

“Just because he can, doesn’t mean he should, Mama,” Dicky replied. “Coach should pay for half—if not all—on the principle alone.”

Suzanne made a shoo-ing motion with her hand.

“We’ll revisit that. So! Did you two finalize a date? We really need to get that so we can pick a venue.”

“We’ve narrowed it down to August 5 or 12th. Dad Bob is just checking on one more thing and is gonna let us know.”

“Good, because besides Empire Hill ALL the good venues are filling up, so you better chop-chop with that date, Dicky.”

“I know.”

“Well, you better!”

“I like the number twelve,” Shitty added apropos of nothing.

“Mother, I know!”

Holster walked in eating Froot Loops, inexplicably, from a giant plastic pitcher. He took a peek at the magazine over Shitty’s shoulder.

“Oooo, Tom Ford! ‘Chyeah!”

Dicky sighed. He already had a feeling things would not be getting any easier.

**+++**

Jack had settled in and gotten comfy on his couch, ready to eat his stir-fry and just watch some TV. Bitty had a big pie order to fulfill the next day, so he had opted to stay in Madison that night. And just as Jack as about to take his first bite, there was a knock on the door.

Jack furrowed his brow, unsure who would be coming by at this time. He looked through the peephole, surprised at who he found. 

“Shitty? Holster? Is everything okay? Is Bitty okay?”

They both loomed in Jack’s doorway, and he stood aside and motioned for them to enter.

“He’s fine. We promise!” Shitty said. He then cleared his throat. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann! This evening, you will partake in the most sacred of our family rituals. Prior to any marriage, this evening must occur—this evening, which will bond us in the brotherhood of family.”

“Brotherhood of family?” Holster asked in a whisper. “Does that make sense?” 

Shitty held his hand up to interrupt Holster and continued. “Tonight, you will crawl onto the shores of manhood naked, blindfolded, and bitch-ass shitfaced.”

“Bitch-ass shitfaced?” Jack said with a smirk.

“Bitch-ass shitfaced!” Shitty and Holster bellowed.

Shitty continued, “But you will not crawl alone! Do you have a second, young squire?”

“A second?” Jack asked. 

“Yeah, brah, a friend or something to come with?”

“Oh… uh, yes?”

“Then I suggest you call him—or her. I'm not some heteronormative prick,” Shitty replied.

“What’s this all about?” Jack asked.

“Tradition,” Holster answered. 

“I don’t know anything about this. Bitty didn’t mention a thing,” Jack said still completely puzzled.

“Tonight, you join us for Hazeapalooza! Call your second and then put this on,” Shitty said as he tossed a blindfold in Jack’s direction. “Tonight you become ONE OF US!”

Holster chanted, “One of us! One of us!” and tossed confetti all over Jack.

“Uh, okay. Gimme a second.”

Jack dialed his phone.

“Hey, Tater. You busy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suzanne is just a worry-wort who loves her son, but she came around. So it's all good.
> 
> Up next? Hazeapalooza! Thanks for your patience with the update. Since I'm now in the thick of a new semester (with so much reading, OMG) I am going to stick to updates every Friday--but I've also added another chapter, so there you go.
> 
> Thanks for all your comments; they really make my day.
> 
> xo


	8. Hazeapalooza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _MooMaw called out, “let Hazeapalooza begin!”_
> 
> _Holster and Shitty approached Jack and Tater._
> 
> _“You’re gonna be fine, brah. MooMaw loves you, so she’ll go easy on you,” Shitty said._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! A surprise Monday update. I had the chapter done, so I figured why wait until Friday? This chapter features a nod to both Hazeapalooza and direct dialog from the movie (at the end of the chapter). I also added one more chapter. This thing went from seven to ten chapters. 
> 
> CW for mentions of drinking in this.

“Thanks for coming without even knowing what you’re getting yourself into, Tater,” Jack said as the two sat in the backseat of Shitty’s Chevy. “And thanks for wearing the blindfold.”

“Reminds me of home, really,” Tater said. “I was kidnapped once when I was kid.”

“Jesus, Tater,” Jack said.

“No, is okay. Turned out to be accident. They gave me ride back to rink. We’re all friends now.”

“Hey, keep it down back there,” Holster bellowed. “We have arrived.”

Jack felt the car bump and thump down a what sounded like a dirt road. Shitty then turned the car off and Jack could hear their doors open and close.

“This is exciting,” Tater said.

The car doors opened and Jack and Tater each felt a hand on their shoulder.

“Okay, Eyes Wide Shut, time to get out of the car,” Shitty said. “And watch your step. I’m sure the NHL has a ‘You Break It, You Buy It’ policy—and I don’t think we can repay in pies.”

“I take that payment,” Tater eagerly cried out.

Jack walked along what felt like a grassy road, taking his guide’s lead. He could see, what appeared to be candlelight come hazily into his view through the blindfold. Someone then gently pushed him down onto his knees and took the blindfold off.

Jack blinked a few times and then laughed when he saw the vision before him. MooMaw stood on an apple box. She wore a gigantic cowboy hat that had several feathers sticking out of one side and denim overalls with elaborately bedazzled pies on the bib.

“Arise, Jack Laurent Zimmermann, and bow before me. On this night, you will be tested to see if you have the mettle to join our clan. Do you have what it takes to become related to a Bittle and by extension, all of us?”

Jack looked around, Holster, Shitty, Coach, and several other people he didn’t recognize stood by, arms folded in front of them. They were inside what appeared to be a somewhat abandoned barn. There were no animals in sight, but Jack could see remnants of what must have been an active farm life at one point.

Tater elbowed Jack.

“Yes?” Jack replied.

“Then,” MooMaw called out, “let Hazeapalooza begin!”

Holster and Shitty approached Jack and Tater. 

“You’re gonna be fine, brah. MooMaw loves you, so she’ll go easy on you,” Shitty said.

“And if you really want her to go super easy on your, just say, ‘Bless your heart, MooMaw’ whenever she does something really nice,” Holster added as he slapped Jack on the back.

Shitty bit his lip and nodded furiously. “Definitely! Do that!”

“Bring Jack and his second to me,” MooMaw called out.

“It’s showtime, Jacko,” Shitty whispered. 

Tater followed with a look of pure glee on his face.

“Is like happy, non-violent _dedovshchina_ , right? Only is rule of grandmother!”

Jack turned to look at Tater as they were lead toward MooMaw.

“You’ll be just fine,” Shitty laughed.

“Will we, Shitty?”

Shitty nodded and smiled, and Jack wasn’t sure if the smile was one of reassurance or if he was just being humored.

“Jack,” MooMaw said as the two stood in front of her. “Is this your second?”

“Yes, MooMaw.”

“Introduce him to me,” she said with a wicked smile.

Tater instantly spoke up.

“I am Alexei Ilya Mashkov, _babulya_. I am second for Jack, on ice and off,” he said as he bowed.

“Oh, I like this tall drink of water,” MooMaw laughed. “Well, Lexy, welcome to the barn. This barn has been in our family for generations, and while it is no longer being used as a farm it still symbolizes all of my family’s hard work. _Mi casa es su casa_.”

“ _Blagodaryu vas_ ,” Tater responded.

“So, Jack, if you’re wondering why we brought you here, it’s pretty simple. We all need to be sure you’ve got what it takes to marry into this family,” MooMaw said with a wink. “And tonight, you’ll have to perform a series of tests. If there’s a test you feel you cannot successfully accomplish, you can pass the test—just a one—onto your second. But choose wisely!”

Everyone cheered.

“Now,” MooMaw said, “if you pass all of your tests, then you will have the blessing of each and every one of us here.”

Everyone cheered again.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Jack and Tater nodded.

“Any questions?”

Jack shook his head.

“Any last words?” she asked.

“I hope I won’t disappoint, MooMaw. Bless your heart.”

Everyone gasped—including Tater. Jack heard a glass break in the background, and Shitty and Holster burst out laughing.

“Zimmboni!” Tater said as he covered his mouth. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“What?” Jack replied. “What did I do?”

MooMaw jumped off the apple box and pulled Shitty and Holster by the ears.

“Sorry! Sorry, MooMaw!” They cried out as everyone else laughed. She let go and smacked each of them on the arm. “I cannot believe you two!”

She turned to Jack and smiled sweetly.

“It’s okay, sugar. Like in Luke 23:34, I forgive you, for you knew not what you did. These two hooligans, however. God love them, bless _their_ hearts!” 

Holster and Shitty looked sheepish as MooMaw glared at them.

Meanwhile, Coach sidled up next to Jack.

“Don’t worry son. I’ve been to several of these in my time, and no one’s died… yet.” He then clapped Jack on the back and walked away laughing.

Jack gave a half-hearted laugh as Tater bounced with happy anticipation.

“For your first test, we will see how good your dexterity is,” MooMaw said. “Zeke, get over here.”

A tall man appeared before Jack, and Jack wondered if he was going to have to arm wrestle him or something.

“Hey, I’m Johnson, Dicky’s cousin, but you can call me Zeke, and this here is my AU cameo, bro.”

Jack looked at Tater, then back at Zeke, as he shook hands. “Uh, nice to meet you, Zeke.”

Shitty and Holster placed a small stool and a bucket next to both Jack and Zeke, as Coach and Dicky’s Uncle Murray each brought out a cow from outside somewhere.

“How’d these cows get here?” Jack asked as everyone cheered.

“They’re loaners from the Millhouse farm. We have to get them back as soon as we’re done,” Coach replied.

“All right, Yankee,” Uncle Murray said, “first one to fill this bucket wins round one. And Zeke, here, is an expert farmer.”

“I prefer the term Animal Husbandry, Uncle Mur,” Zeke replied as he settled onto his stool.

“I’ve never milked a cow before,” Jack said completely bewildered.

“You don’t say,” Holster replied with finger guns.

Jack looked back to Tater who was jumping up and down.

“Zimmboni! My cousin, Anton, has white goat farm back in Russia. I can do this! I can do this!”

“I call on my second,” Jack shouted as he scrambled away from the cow.

“Gentlemen, any final words?”

Zeke shook his head as Tater growled out to Zeke, “I will break you!”

Everyone roared with laughter, and they were off.

Zeke’s hands flew into action and Tater watched mesmerized for a few seconds.

“TATER, GO!” Jack yelled.

“See, Zimmboni? You wrap thumb and finger around each _cocok_ and squeeze…”

Tater then flew into action as everyone cheered and whooped and hollered. 

“You’re pretty good at this,” Zeke called out as he glanced at Tater’s progress.

“I know,” he replied.

Both had reached the halfway mark.

“Go, Tater! Go!” Jack called out.

Shitty and Holster took photos and cheered.

“Almost there!”

“DONE!”

“We have a winner,” Uncle Murray called out. “MooMaw, the final word is yours.”

MooMaw looked at both buckets, as Zeke and Tater stood back and watched.

“The winner is clear here. LEXY WINS THIS ROUND!”

“Tater, you’re the best!” Jack cried.

“Okay,” MooMaw said, “that round showed your manual dexterity but also that you will always be able to provide for your family. This next round, will show that you are strong enough to protect your family.”

“Wheelbarrow rolls!” Coach said as he removed a canvas tarp from two rusty wheelbarrows. 

“Jack and Holster, you’ll have to run back and forth three times, adding five bricks at each turn. First one to reach the finish line, wins.”

“I used to push Shitty in this and still won, just so you know,” Holster said as he cracked his knuckles.

“Well I once did a round of suicides carrying Tater over my head,” Jack replied cockily.

“Is true. I saw my life flash before my eyes,” Tater said as he clutched MooMaw.

“You boys ready?” Coach asked.

Holster and Jack nodded and took off when Coach gave the signal.

Jack reached the first marker before Holster as he used his enormous quads to his advantage. He quickly bent down and started throwing the bricks into the wheelbarrow. He needed to impress Coach and MooMaw. Even though he knew this was just a silly competition and manliness is not quantifiable, he wanted to show them he could win.

“Dude! Ya tryin’ to kill me?” Holster called as he raced after Jack, losing a brick in the process.

Jack laughed as he reach the next marker and flung the bricks as he grunted to himself, “For you and Bits!”

He ran and passed Holster again who threw in ten bricks and yelled, “Does this count for anything?!”

“Son,” Coach called back, “now I know you’re smart, so stop acting like you’re dumber than a bag of hammers.” 

Jack raced toward the finish line and shouted, “YEAH!” as he beat Holster.

Tater ran over and Jack jumped into his arms as they did an off-ice celly.

“Fine! FOINNNNE! YOU WIN!” Holster wheezed. “Dang, I have a stitch on my side,” he cried as he crumpled onto the ground.

MooMaw walked through the crowd of Phelps, Knight and Bittle men as they parted to let her pass.

“Well, well, well, Jacky boy. You have proven yourself to be strong of heart and mind, so far. So now, for your final test, we have to find out…”

Jack’s eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Can you hang with the fam?” MooMaw asked as she handed Jack a shot glass.

**+++**

Dicky quietly entered MooMaw’s guest room and closed the door behind him. The morning sun illuminated the entire room and the smell of biscuits in the oven filled the air. 

“Aw,” Dicky said as he looked at Jack’s body sprawled out on the bed. His arms covered his eyes.

“Hey, sweetpea,” Dicky said. “How you feeling?”

"I am never, ever, ever drinking with MooMaw ever again," Jack moaned. 

"Lord honey, what did you do? You sound like you’re dying."

"Bourbon," Jack replied as he slowly sat up. He looked green around the gills. 

“You could have said no.”

“I was going to stop after one drink, but then your cousin Ralph showed up and insisted I do one more shot. And then… I think there was dancing involved?”

“Ralph? Lord. You shouldn’t listen to anything he has to say. He’d struggle to pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel."

Jack laughed then winced. “Ow, it hurts to laugh.”

Just then, Tater burst in chomping on a biscuit and looking perfectly fine.

“Morning, Zimmboni. MooMaw made biscuits and gravy for breakfast,” he sing-songed.

"I hate you... so much," Jack groaned.

Tater laughed.

“I’ll bring you some Tylenol and dry toast,” Dicky said sympathetically as Jack nodded and snuggled his pillow.

Dicky and Tater began to exit just at the same time MooMaw walked in carrying a tray.

“There he is! There’s our boy. How you doin’, sugar?” She asked.

“Hey, MooMaw,” Jack said weakly.

She put the tray on the bed.

“You certainly are a lightweight. You had one-and-half drinks, and I can appreciate you saying no more. A good man knows his limit and when to say when.”

Jack smiled. 

“Here, a cheesy egg sandwich on Texas toast, and a glass of Coke with crushed ice. Trust me, eat this and you’ll feel right as rain.”

“Thank you, MooMaw,” Jack said and gingerly sipped his Coke.

“Dicky, your boy, he did good last night. Real good. You should be proud to take the Zimmermann name.”

Jack happily took a bite of his sandwich.

"We’re hyphenating," Dicky replied as he grinned at Jack. 

"Well he's worthy of adding Bittle to his name, then,” MooMaw said and gave Jack a quick wink.

“All right, Lexy, you wanna help me make some homemade sausage?” She asked.

“Yes, MooMaw,” Tater said. “This is the best day!”

MooMaw and Tater left, and Dicky handed Jack a napkin.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Dicky said.

“What for?” Jack asked.

“Having my crazy family kidnap you, without warning, to make you do this goofy as hell tradition.”

“It’s fine. Really, they didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to—and Tater had a blast,” Jack smiled.

Dicky sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at his hands.

“What is it, Bud?” 

“I feel… I feel like you’re going to look around and you’ll suddenly realize what you’re really getting yourself into and then think, ‘No thanks, hard pass.’”

Jack frowned and put his sandwich down.

“Is that really what you think?”

Dicky shrugged.

“Do you think so little of my love that you believe something as small and silly as this would drive me away?”

“No—I just… every day I think, why me?” He sighed. “Why do you love me?”

“Because I finally came alive when I met you,” Jack said.

“But my family…” Dicky countered. 

“You're a part of your family, and I'll do anything, whatever it takes to get them to accept me. Because you're my life now. Okay?”

Dicky smiled and kissed Jack.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedovshchina, or the “rule of grandfathers,” is an awful hazing in the Russian army. Totally extreme. Sounds terrible!
> 
> Blagodaryu vas = Thank you!
> 
> babulya = granny
> 
> I mean, MooMaw is totally Betty White, right? And now I want a cheesy egg sandwich.
> 
> LOL! I wrote a ficlet about Tater's kidnapping. [Check it out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813594).


	9. The Engagement Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Zimmermanns meet the Bittles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left? Yep, yep, yep.

“I told you. You took too long.”

“Mama, please,” Dicky replied as he rubbed his temples. 

They had just spent the last couple of hours emailing, web browsing, and calling every venue in the greater Atlanta area in vain, as everything was booked.

“I told you weeks ago to nail down a date, baby, and now look,” she _tsked_ as she perused a local bowling alley’s website.

“Mother, I’m not having my wedding at a bowling alley.”

Suzanne shrugged, “Well then, we can make it a destination weddin’ and drive down to Savannah.”

“We’re not driving down to Savannah. Nobody is gonna want to drive to Savannah, plus Savannah is expensive as all get out.”

“Dicky—” 

“We’re not having Jack pay for everything, all right? Please, Mama. Respect my wishes about this, will you?” 

Suzanne shrugged, “Well then, you better be okay with having two hundred people shoved into a tent in our backyard. A nice cozy wedding...”

Dicky took a sip of his iced tea. “And another thing, how did my small, sweet wedding turn into an almost two-hundred-person circus?”

“Your MooMaw has friends, your daddy has a lot of business relations, our family, and that’s not even counting Jack’s side.”

Dicky dropped his head onto to kitchen table. 

“Oh, Mama. What am I going to do? Where am I going to put all these people?”

“Well, for starters, _we’ll_ figure it out, Dicky,” she said and gently touched his chin.

“Thanks, Mama.” Dick sighed. “I swear, finding a venue is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

Suzanne’s eyes grew wide. “Dicky! That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

**+++**

“She wants to have the wedding at the barn,” Dicky said into the phone.

“What barn?” Jack asked as he sat in a Chicago hotel room fresh off a win against the Hawks.

“You know, the barn? The one you got hazed in!”

“Oh.”

“Oh is right, mister. You think the barn wedding they have in mind is going to be shabby chic? It’s going to be more like shabby… shit.”

Jack laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Mama was all like, ‘Dicky, it’s been in our family for generations.’ Yeah, well it shows. You saw it.” 

“It was wide open, it didn’t smell like a barn… it has charm and potential,” Jack added.

“I don’t know, Jack. If my family’s involved, I can just picture all sorts of things going wrong. The tackiness level alone would be a nightmare--”

“I don’t think you give your family enough credit,” Jack said. “They love you and know what style you like. I don’t think they’d do anything you wouldn’t be into.”

Dicky flung himself back onto his bed and groaned. 

“I just… I just want everything to be simple and sweet. It’s just about us, okay?”

“I promise. It is just about us,” Jack reassured him.

“I don’t want it to become one of Shitty’s wild ass kegsters, or Mama’s opportunity to show off to her friends, or have it become some sort of business meeting for Coach. This is just about me and you.”

“I know. It will be.”

Dicky felt reassured and calm.

“Thank you, sweetpea.”

“For what?”

“For being you,” Dicky said with a smile.

As the adage states, time flies when you're plannin' a wedding and true to its word, the wedding began to approach quickly. With two months away from the big day, it was time to order the invitations.

Jack sat at the kitchen table helping MooMaw shuck some corn for dinner as Dicky and Suzanne looked through an invitation catalog.

“What about this one?” Dicky asked as he held the page up toward Jack.

“I like it.”

“That’s what you said about the last three,” Dicky replied.

“I liked those, too.”

“This boy, I swear,” Dicky laughed. “Well, we can’t buy them all so we have to pick one.”

“Whatever you want is fine with me, I trust you,” Jack replied.

“And that, my boy, is the secret to a lasting relationship,” MooMaw said to Jack as he grinned.

Shitty and Holster walked in carrying two small boxes.

“Greetings and salutations, my brethren and sistren,” Shitty called out as he slammed the boxes onto the table.

“Here they are,” Holster said as he tapped the boxes.

“Here what is?” Dicky asked. 

“The invites have arrived,” Shitty replied.

Dicky blinked a few times. 

“Hold up. What do you mean the invites have arrived? What invites?”

“For your nuptials, brah,” Shitty said as he took the lid off of one box. “You know, you and this Canadian god tying the knot in patriarchal matrimony.”

“You ordered our invitations?!” Dicky cried out.

“Dicks, I mentioned it to you two weeks ago and showed you the pic and you said, ‘Sounds good.’ Dude! Come on,” Shitty bellowed.

“Yeah,” Holster added, “remember? We said that Zeke knew someone who could do them at cost because their specialty was AUs—whatever that means.”

“I thought you were talking about invitations for the bachelor party or something,” Dicky said.

Suzanne held an invitation and shrugged, “They’re actually pretty nice, Dicky.”

She handed it to him, and Jack and MooMaw both looked over.

Dicky was relieved. It was actually a very tasteful invitation. A crisp white cardstock with their initials embossed on the front in a classic script, and in the corner sat a tiny cherry blossom.

“Oh,” he said as he sounded pleasantly surprised. He then opened the invitation. “Alicia and Bubba?!”

Jack laughed and stopped when Dicky shot him a dirty look.

“My dad’s name is Bob.”

“Fuck a duck,” Shitty called out as he took a peek over Jack’s shoulder. “I totally missed that!”

“Dude, so did I!” Holster said and smack his forehead.

“‘Chyeah, you did,” Shitty said. “You were totally busy hitting on the woman on the counter.”

Holster grinned. “Yeah, that was a nice three-day relationship.”

MooMaw and Suzanne frowned.

“Okay, but, back to me!” Dicky said and waved his hand wildly. “I can’t send these invitations out. Bob. His name is Bob. ‘Bubba’ ain’t requesting the presence of squat.”

Jack smiled, “I don’t know, Bits. I think they’re kinda funny. And it seems like a shame to waste them.”

“The really are lovely. Good jobs, boys,” Suzanne said cheerfully.

“Good job?” Dicky rubbed his temples. “Mama, what if they had printed Richard and Susan?”

Suzanne wrinkled her nose. “Well…”

“Exactly!”

“Bits, it’s not a big deal. I bet most people won’t even notice.”

“Especially if we get them super liquored up at the barn,” MooMaw added.

Just then, Jenny burst into the kitchen. “Wait until y’all get a load of this. I found the perfect dress for all the groomsmaids.”

She ripped off her trench coat and revealed a skin-tight, pale pink lace dress with what looked like a matching white bra and underwear underneath.

“Whoa!” Dicky yelled as everyone’s eyes bugged out.

“Right?” Jenny said as she twirled. “Amaze.”

“That’s…” MooMaw began, “there’s a lot to unpack here.”

“And I think we should just throw away the entire suitcase!” Dicky added.

“Jenny, sweetheart,” Suzanne said. “Not everyone is going to be comfortable showing that much skin.”

“Pssh! This thing is hot and sexy and everyone is going to love it.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want hot and sexy as the tone of their wedding?” Dicky said as he threw his arms up.

Suzanne and Jack quietly exchanged looks.

**+++**

It was meant to be a small gathering. Just seven people, tops—what it turned out being was so much more.

Dicky was at the diner when the phone rang.

“Dancing Pies, how may I help you?”

“Dicky?”

“Hey, Mama. What’s up?”

“Can you bring some pies home for tonight?”

“Sure, but what for? I already have two all set.”

“Well, that’s not going to be enough. We need at least six or seven more. I can make two more, but with all the other food--”

Dicky leaned against the counter. “Six or seven? Whatever for? Are we each getting our own pie?”

Alicia and Bob had flown into Atlanta with the sole purpose of coming to Madison to finally meet Dicky’s parents. The wedding was a month away, and while Suzanne and Alicia had been chatting via email and Skype, the family had yet to meet face to face. Dicky had planned on a quiet dinner at his house so his parents and Jack’s parents could get to know another. 

“So… who else is coming?” Dicky asked with trepidation.

“Just the family,” Suzanne replied.

“Mama?”

“Us, MooMaw, Judy and her family, your uncle Billy, your cousins, Marlene and her family, JJ, Zeke, Danny, your godmother, Teddy, Jed, some of the Nelsons, Little Pat, Big Pat, Pat--”

“Mama! I said come for a quiet dinner and meet my family, not my entire family tree!” 

“Oh, Dicky, don’t get your undies in a wad. It’ll be fine; they may as well meet everybody. See you at six,” she said cheerily and hung up.

Dicky stared at the phone, afraid to go home.

**+**

“It was supposed to be just the family,” Dicky said as they approached his parents’ house. “But it seems the guest list might have grown a tad bit.”

“Oh, that’s okay. We don’t mind. Right, Bobby?” Alicia said from the back seat.

“The more the merrier, I say,” Bob replied.

“See, Bits? Totally fine,” Jack said with a smile that faltered slightly when they pulled in front of the house. 

“Sweet Mary,” Dicky whispered.

A gaggle of Dicky’s first and second cousins ran around the front yard as they screamed their heads off and chased one another with super soaker water pistols. “Achy Breaky Heart,” of all things, blared from the backyard, and Dicky could see the smoke rising from Coach’s grill. Cars were parked everywhere, even on the lawn, and the garage door was opened as Shitty sat on top of a Coleman cooler, laughing loudly while he slapped Holster on the back and smoked god-knew-what as Zeke and some of their friends did a kegstand. Jenny and a group of her friends played cornhole on the front lawn and sipped out of some giant red Solo cups. 

Suzanne appeared at the front door holding an enormous margarita glass. She waved and ran out. 

“RICHARD! THEY’RE HERE!” she yelled over her shoulder.

“I’d like to apologize in advance,” Dicky said as he quickly turned toward the back seat.

“Eric, sweetheart, it’s fine,” Alicia said. “Come on, let’s go meet your family.”

Bob opened his door and ran out to meet Suzanne.

“Sweet Baby Jesus, that poster I had in my bedroom as a gal didn’t do you justice,” she gushed as Judy began to push her out of the way. “You’re like all the Jonas Brothers rolled into one with a slice of Tim Tebow."

“I’m Judy, Suzanne’s much younger sister,” she said as Suzanne giggled. “We might have been nervous about meeting y’all, so I gave Suze here a couple margaritas before y’all got here.”

Dicky caught up to them and groaned. “Really, mother?”

Judy and Suzanne burst out laughing, as Bob turned and looked at Dicky with the biggest smile on his face.

“I like them, son!”

Jack and Alicia approached at the same time Coach emerged from the back yard.

“Teddy! Get over here!” Coach yelled.

“Coach, these are Jack’s parents, Alicia and Bob.”

“Welcome to my home,” Coach said as he shook Bob’s hand and smiled at Alicia. “Y’all met Suzie, and over here is my brother Teddy, but we all call him Murray, and his wife, Melissa, and their kids Kayleigh, Madison, TJ and Nicky. My sister Bertha and her husband Brett, and their kid Shitty is out in the garage. And that over there, is my sister, Tammy, and her wife, Angie, and their kids Bailey, Neveah, Paisleigh, and Brandon--”

Suzanne interrupted. “And this is my sister, Judy, and her hubby George is out back, and those two little slices of meringue are her boys Braxtan and Craigory.”

In the background, Braxtan and Craigory could be heard telling each other to eat shit and die. Suzanne and Judy giggled, then Suzanne gasped when she took a good look at Alicia.

“And you… you’re even more drop-dead gorgeous in person,” she said reverently. 

Alicia smiled and leaned in for a hug, and was immediately handed a margarita by Judy.

“Can I touch your hair?” Judy whispered.

Jack smiled as Dicky covered his face in mortification.

“I think I’m going to love it here,” Alicia laughed.

MooMaw appeared and Bob and Alicia immediately walked over to her.

“And this,” Dicky beamed, “is my MooMaw.”

“Dorothy Bittle, but you can call me MooMaw,” she said as she extended her hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, MooMaw,” Alicia said and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

MooMaw smiled then looked at Bob up and down. “What about you, handsome? Are you pleased to meet me too?” 

Bob laughed and leaned in to also kiss MooMaw.

“There you go!” she said. “I want to thank you two for raising such a fine young man. He’s perfect for Dicky and I’m so glad they found each other.”

It was then Alicia’s turn to beam. “We are, too. We really love Eric and already consider him part of the family.”

Dicky smiled as Jack gave him a quick squeeze.

“All right, let’s get this engagement party started,” MooMaw said as she took Alicia by the hand and headed toward the backyard.

The evening was, more or less, a blur after that. Bob asked Coach for step-by-step lessons on how to smoke an entire pig. Uncle Murray then bust out a mason jar of god knows what. Soon, line dancing began.

Dicky was taking a break from dancing when Jenny and AmberDawn approached him.

“Okay, Jenny has something she wants to ask you,” AmberDawn said.

“No, I don't.”

“What is it?” Dicky asked. “Is it about the dresses?”

Jenny frowned. “What? No. What’s wrong with the dresses?”

“Go on,” AmberDawn encouraged.

“Jenny, just ask me!”

“Does Jack have any brothers?” Jenny finally blurted out.

Dicky laughed. “No, he's an only child.”

Meanwhile back at the garage, Shitty and Holster had Jack cornered.

“I've got to tell you,” Shitty said, “I've never seen Dicky so happy.”

Holster nodded furiously.

“I’m glad. That’s all I want, to make him happy,” Jack said.

“If you hurt him,” Shitty said with eyes narrowed. “I'll kill you and make it look like an accident.”

“Um, what?” Jack asked with brows raised.

“Jesus, look at your face! It's just a joke,” Shitty replied.

“Haha. Good one,” Jack frowned.

“No, the good one is, we know people..." Shitty countered.

Jack looked at Shitty, unsure how to respond.

“Jackabelle, I got you again!” Shitty howled. “Come on, brah, lighten up.”

Holster finished his drink, crushed his Solo cup in his hands and said, “Hey, Jack. We’re gonna kill ya!”

Jack rolled his eyes. 

“You two are about as threatening as a labradoodle.” He clapped Holster on the back and smirked. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Shitty and Holster howled with laughter as they high-fived Jack.

Jack and Dicky finally found one another near the end of the night.

“There you are!” Dicky cried out. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Jack pulled Dicky in for a quick kiss.

“I guess this was officially our engagement party?” Jack said. 

Dicky laughed. “I guess so!"

“Your Uncle Murray made me bury a bottle of bourbon? He explained why, but I didn’t really get it,” Jack said.

“Oh, that’s some goofy tradition where--”

Aunt Judy appeared and pulled Dicky toward her.

“So, Dicky, when are you and Jack gonna come by for dinner?”

“Hey, Aunt Judy.”

“Well?” she asked with hand on hip.

“That, uh, might be a problem,” Dicky replied.

“A problem? How? I’m the best cook in the entire family. Tell him!” she said as she gestured toward Jack.

“I did, didn’t I?” Dicky quickly replied.

“Twice,” Jack added.

“See? It’s just that Jack doesn’t eat meat. He’s a vegetarian.”

“A vegetarian?” Judy asked.

“Yeah, and I know how much you love making your award-winning meatloaf."

Judy studied Dicky then leaned in and said quietly, “You sure you wanna get married, honey?”

Around one in the morning, everyone had finally gone home and Alicia and Bob sat on the Bittle living room floor sipping a cup of tea and eating some pie. Coach and Bob chatted quietly about football, as Suzanne dozed softly, her head on Coach’s shoulder.

Dicky and Jack sat on the couch and watched their parents. Coach said something to Bob which caused him to throw his head back in laughter.

“I guess they hit it off, huh?” Jack said.

“Yeah, they’re as happy as clams at high tide.”

“I love it when you speak Southern.”

Dicky playfully swatted at Jack. “Really?”

“It's sexy.”

Dicky blushed, “Oh, you!”

“Did you have a good time?” Jack asked as he took Dicky’s hand in his.

“Uh-huh. But I’m tired. I am so glad I don’t have to open the restaurant tomorrow.”

“I bet.” Jack yawned. “I’ll get my parents out of here, so you can get to bed.”

He pressed a kiss to Dicky’s head, and Dicky smiled, finally feeling excited about what tomorrow would hold for his new extended family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Burying the bourbon](https://www.southernliving.com/weddings/southern-wedding-tradition-burying-the-bourbon) is totally a thing.
> 
> Bad Bob being "the Jonas brothers all rolled into one with a slice of Tim Tebow" is totally a [Suzanne-ism](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/63986348069).


	10. Love and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the big day. How will Dicky's Big Fat Southern Wedding go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, y'all.

Dicky blinked his eyes open and slowly focused on the ceiling fan whirling lazily above him. He gave himself a delicious full body stretch and then the magnitude of the day fell upon him. 

He grabbed Señor Bun and whispered, “I’m getting married today to the sweetest boy in the world. Can you believe?”

Dicky jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to get some coffee started, surprised to find a busy hum of activity already going on all over the house.

Shitty and Holster were hammering something outside, MooMaw was frying up some bacon, Suzanne—with a head full of rollers—was on the phone hollering at Zeke about the band’s start time, and Coach was texting someone.

“Hey, everyone,” Dicky called out.

Cheers erupted as Coach said, “It’s the man of the hour!”

“Morning, Dicky,” Suzanne said after she ended her phone call. 

She handed Dicky a cup of coffee and said, “Please be sure to eat some fruit or something. No empty stomach for you, mister, you’ll fall apart halfway through the day.”

MooMaw handed Dicky a small bowl of oatmeal topped with brown sugar and dried cherries.

“Here you go, sugar.”

Dicky smiled at his mother and grandmother, and then felt his eyes begin to tear up.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” Suzanne asked.

“I just…” Dicky began as he sniffled. “Thank you.”

Suzanne smiled and stroked his cheek.

“Go on, sit down and eat your oatmeal.”

The landline rang, because the Bittles were one of the few families who still had one.

“Pizza Hut, we deliver,” Shitty said as he entered the kitchen and answered the phone. “Oh, hey, Jacko. All set for the big day? Dicky? Yeah, hold on.”

Shitty handed Dicky the phone. “It’s your betrothed.”

“Morning, sweetheart!”

“Hey, bud.”

Dicky grinned from ear to ear, and he could hear the smile in Jack’s voice.

“So, are you ready?” he asked.

“Absolutely. And you?” Jack replied. 

“Me too.”

“Right on!” Jack replied. “I called you on your cell but you didn’t answer. I was worried maybe you were getting cold feet.”

“Cold feet? Never. I've got hot toes,” Dicky said.

“Haha,” Jack replied as he sounded less nervous. "Hot toes."

“I left it upstairs in my room. MooMaw made me oatmeal and reminded me to eat. So will you make sure you eat something, too?”

“Papa is making breakfast. I promise I’ll eat I before I head to the airport.”

“Right! I can’t wait to see her in the flesh,” Dicky said. Lardo’s flight was landing in an hour and Jack was excited to have the two finally meet. "Okay, I have to go. Mama is waving and the boys are hollerin’ about something. I’ll see you at four?”

Dicky could hear Jack exhale shakily on the line and then laugh softly. 

“Yes, I’ll be the one with the suit on, smiling.”

“I can’t wait to marry you!”

“Ditto.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too. So much. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Dicky hung up and smiled. “I’m marrying him,” he said softly to himself. 

The banging and shouting outside ripped Dicky out of his sappy thoughts. What in the world?

“What’re y’all doing out there?” he yelled toward the screen door.

“DICKY! GET OUT OF HERE!” Holster bellowed

“BRAH! GO AWAY!” Shitty quickly added.

“Lord have mercy,” Dicky muttered as he put his oatmeal down. “What’s with all the cacophony?!”

Holster yelled back, “Cacophony? Is that a fancy way of saying bullshit?”

Dicky laughed and was about to slide open the screen door, when Coach quickly pulled him away.

“Son, you don’t want to go out there. Trust me!”

“Coach, what’s going on?!” Dicky yelled.

Coach sighed. “It’s a surprise, okay? Just… don’t ruin it for them. Don’t go outside.”

“Lord, please don’t tell me it’s something tacky,” Dicky said as he gripped Coach’s arms.

“It’s a good surprise. I promise.”

They both then heard a loud bang coming from outside as Shitty and Holster swore at the top of their lungs. Coach rubbed his face and sighed again.

“Now let’s hope the thing doesn’t fall apart on the truck on the way to the barn.”

“Fall apart? What thing? Oh sweet Mary,” Dicky said nervously. "Tell me!"

“The smart thing would have been to build it there!” Coach shouted toward the yard.

“Don’t harsh our high, Coach,” Shitty replied.

“I hope you’re talking metaphorically today, Shitty.”

Coach and Dicky heard giggling come from the yard.

**+++**

Dicky sat on the edge of his bed after his shower and towel dried his hair. He looked at the boxes packed in his room. Clothes, books, shoes, cooking supplies, pie tins, photos… his life in fifteen boxes. Shitty and Holster would take them to Jack’s while they were on their honeymoon. 

Dicky was ready to start his life with Jack, he really was, but this was the only home he’d known his entire life and he was sad to leave it… sad that he wouldn’t be seeing Shitty barging in half-naked looking for food, sad that he couldn't yell at Holster about drinking all the milk, sad that he wouldn’t have his Mama to come home to and gossip with, sad that he wouldn’t be driving to the restaurant with Coach in the morning. 

He picked up Bun and gave him a tight squeeze. Dicky then grabbed his phone and saw Jack’s smiling face—his lock screen. His heart smiled at the sight of Jack. He was ready.

“Yes?” Dicky called at the knock on his door.

Suzanne walked in carrying Dicky’s suit.

“I gave it another quick press,” she said as she carefully laid out the seersucker suit on the bed.

“Thank you, Mama.” 

“Are you decent?” MooMaw called from just outside the door.

“Yep! Come in, MooMaw.”

MooMaw came in and sat next to Dicky. She had a small box that she put on his lap.

“What’s this?” Dicky asked as Suzanne smiled.

“Well it’s your something old and new,” she said.

Dicky opened the box.

“Oh, MooMaw,” Dicky said.

The box held a pair of silver cufflinks. Dicky recognized them right away. They had belonged to his Paw-Paw.

“We had them cleaned up and polished, and had the backings redone. So, see? Old and new,” she said and squeezed Dicky’s arm.

Suzanne then took out a pocket square.

“And here’s your something blue. To match your suit and bowtie. It’s my daddy’s handkerchief.”

“Okay, both of you are gonna make me cry. And I can’t be all blotchy on my weddin’ day,” Dicky sniffed.

Suzanne and MooMaw smiled and Dicky brought them in for a group hug.

“I love y’all,” he said softly.

Suzanne wiped her eyes and exhaled loudly. 

“Enough of that now. Dicky, rest up and then start getting dressed. We’ll be leaving at 3:00. MooMaw, let’s go take these rollers out of our hair and get gussied up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” MooMaw said.

“Let me know if you need any help with anything,” Suzanne said as she closed the door behind her.

After his nap, Dicky got dressed and took one final look at himself in his full-length mirror. 

“Not bad, Eric.”

He wore a classic blue seersucker suit with a crisp white shirt, navy blue bowtie, and his grandfather’s navy blue pocket square. On his feet were a pair of brown and white brogues. His hair was stylishly tousled just so. He put on his rosebud boutonniere and admired himself one more time.

“Not bad at all,” he said with a smile.

“Junior! It’s time!” Coach yelled from downstairs.

“Coming!”

Dicky ran downstairs and saw his family waiting, all smiles, at the bottom of the stairs.

“Mama and MooMaw! You look so beautiful,” Dicky cried out. “Look at you!”

“I guess I look like chopped liver?” Coach groused.

“You clean up nice, old man,” Dicky teased as Coach spun around once.

“You like?” He asked as he smoothed down the lapels of his grey suit.

“I love,” Dicky smiled.

Coach smiled at Dicky, then cleared his throat and wiped at the corner of eye.

“All right, let’s quit our piddlin’ and get us to the barn.”

 

Dicky wasn’t sure what to expect at the barn. Suzanne had said that she’d “take care of it.” Now that woman had more Pinterest boards than you could shake a stick at, but the last time he saw the family barn it was… well, a barn.

They parked on the side of the barn, and several cars were already there. Dicky exited the car and spied Shitty and Holster as they walked out from inside the barn and smiled.

“Oh my god! Look at you two!” Dicky called as he looked at his smartly dressed suit-wearing cousins. 

“Nice, right?” Holster said as he waggled his eyebrows. “Imagine all the phone numbers I’ll get.”

Dicky laughed. “Well, I’m glad my wedding will be good for something.”

Shitty had his hair up in a manbun, and the tiniest of daisies poked out of the back.

“See?” Shitty said as he pointed at it. “Festive, right?” 

“I love it,” Dicky smiled.

“Okay, are you ready to see the barn?” Holster asked.

“Y-yes?” Dicky stuttered.

“Close your eyes,” Shitty said.

“Um… and fall flat on my face on my weddin’ day? How about no?” Dicky replied as he closed his eyes. “One of y’all better come and guide me.”

Dicky felt his Mama’s hand on his forearm as she gently lead him inside. 

“Almost there,” Suzanne said. “Okay, open them.”

Dicky’s eyes grew wide, he couldn’t believe it. 

“Surprise!” Shitty and Holster yelled.

“Oh my,” Dicky said.

The barn had been transformed into something magical. The doors were wide open giving view to the magnolia trees just outside. White twinkle lights hung from every possible space and white tulle bunting was draped across the rafters. Wooden picnic tables were sponge-painted white and lined with lace doilies, mason jars filled with candles, and mixed and matched vases which held enormous white hydrangeas and peonies. The table settings were all vintage white plates with white linen napkins. Wooden pallets were put together and painted white to form a stage for the band. 

Several long wooden tables were placed along the side near the windows and every possible pie imaginable was set out on beautiful glass pie stands. And just outside the side barn doors, underneath a giant magnolia tree was the spot where the ceremony would take place. Rows of white chairs took residence outside, a few guests already seated.

Dicky walked over there, covering his mouth, completely overwhelmed by how beautiful everything was when he saw it.

Before him stood a beautiful chuppah with a gorgeous gauzy canopy, and Dicky felt his eyes begin to tear up.

“Y’all… what did you do?” he cried.

“Adam and Bertie built it for you and for Jack. We just wanted to do something special for your ceremony,” Suzanne said.

“I totally copied my bubbe’s wedding chuppah,” Holster added. “I’m so glad we had a good picture of it.” 

“Guys,” Dicky cried out as he flung himself into Shitty and Holster’s arms. 

“We love you, little brah!” Shitty replied.

“Jack is really going to appreciate this,” Dicky said and wiped away his tears. “You two are the best.”

“Say cheese!” Coach called out as he snapped several shots with his phone. “You boys did such a great job. Who knew you had woodworking skills? And it didn’t fall apart on the truck. Good going!”

Jenny, followed by three other groomsmaids ran out and toward Dicky. Dicky smiled when he looked at their dresses. The bra and undie combo had been replaced by a white slip that was stylish and modern enough to go with the lace overlay of the original design.

“Y’all look beautiful!” Dicky cried. "Like supermodels!"

“Look how handsome you look!” Jenny called as she hugged Dicky.

“Also, FYI, Jack just pulled up,” AmberDawn said. "Talk about supermodel!" 

Jack and Dicky had decided that they would walk down the aisle together. They were going to be partners for life, equal in every way, so they wanted to start their lives as spouses walking together as a pair.

Suddenly, more people began to arrive and Suzanne snapped into action.

“Shitty, Holster! Start making sure everyone gets seated, right quick. Any gifts can be put on the table that’s next to the guest book. And mention that everyone needs to sign the guest book. Everyone! Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison and gave her a mock salute.

“Dicky?”

“Yes, mother?”

“Well, go find Jack. We’ll let you know when it’s time. Go on, now,” she smiled.

He could hear Suzanne giving Coach some instructions as he walked back toward the barn.

“Eric!” Alicia said and held out her arms. Bob stood behind her and smiled.

“Alicia and Bob!” He melted into their arms. 

“You look beautiful, darling,” Alicia said. “So handsome.”

“Still don’t know how Jack landed a cutie like you,” Bob chirped.

“Bobby!” Alicia laughed.

“Um, where is Jack?” Dicky asked looking around. 

“He’s in the small room in the back, just catching his breath and waiting for you,” Alicia said.

The Thrashers and more guests began to pour in and waved at Dicky, and Dicky began to feel overwhelmed.

“Go with him—I’ll take care the guests,” she said as she nudged Dicky toward the back of the barn.

“Thanks, maman.”

Dicky knocked on the door.

“It’s me.”

“Come in,” Jack said from inside.

Dicky opened the door and both saw one another for the first time that day. Jack looked beautiful in his linen suit, and Dicky felt breathless.

“You look stunning,” Jack said as he walked toward Dicky and took his hands.

Dicky smiled. “I was going to say the same thing about you, you charmer.”

The two grinned goofily at each other.

“Oh!” Jack finally said. “Check it out! My something borrowed.”

He pointed to his feet. 

Jack wore a pair of well-loved, well-worn brown cowboy boots. It took Dicky a second to realize what it all meant. The something borrowed were his Paw-Paw’s favorite boots.

“MooMaw lent them to me. Apparently, Paw-Paw and I were the same shoe size.”

“Oh my god! Cowboy boots?!” Dicky said as he laughed. “I hate that I find them so incredibly sexy on you!” 

“Right?!”

The two laughed and Jack pulled Dicky into his arms as he pressed a kiss onto the top of his head.

**+**

Shitty sighed as he rubbed his eyes and said for the umpteenth time, “Please make sure you sign the guest book.”

“Dude, not with that attitude.”

Shitty looked down and was being examined with a very critical eye by the cutest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Pardon me?” he squeaked out.

“I’m not gonna sign a guest book with that piss poor attitude,” she sassed. “You need to make me wanna sign the book—beg to wanna sign the book.”

The corner of Shitty’s mouth quirked.

“Esteemed guest, would you please do me a solid and sign the guest book? It would be so very,” Shitty deadpanned as he tried to hide his glee.

“I’ll consider it,” she said. “But I’m not really a guest.”

“Oh? You make it a habit of crashing barn weddings, do you?” 

“I’m not so much a guest as the best woman,” she said with an enormous smile.

“I’ll say,” Shitty shot back.

“I’m Jack’s best woman, you nerd.”

“Lardo?” Shitty asked with forehead crinkled.

“Larissa Duan.” She offered her hand. “Now talk to me later about that guest book okay, handsome?” 

She elbowed Shitty in the abdomen and went to meet the reverend. Shitty smiled stupidly and watched her walk away.

“Who was that?” Holster asked.

“My future,” Shitty replied.

**+**

Bob knocked on the door and called out, “It’s showtime, boys.”

Jack smiled as he looked over at Dicky.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Jack adjusted his kippah then took Dicky’s hand as the two walked out toward the guests.

**+**

“May almighty God bless all of you who are gathered here, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Reverend Rivera said. 

"Amen," the guests replied.

“And may your bond of love be as difficult to break, as it would be to put back together these pieces of glass.”

Jack gripped Dicky’s hand and smiled as he stepped on the glass. 

The guests yelled, “Mazel Tov, y’all!” as the two leaned in for a joyous kiss accompanied by applause and cheers.

The rest of the night was a music-filled, nonstop party that Dicky and Jack weren’t expecting it to be so damn entertaining.

Zeke’s country band played at the reception, and much to Dicky’s chagrin he found himself singing along to most of the songs as he swayed and danced with his husband. They ate barbecue (with special barbecued seitan for Jack), MooMaw’s prize winning cornbread, fried chicken, mac and cheese, grits with grilled portobellos, two groom’s cakes, and as much pie as Tater could possibly eat.

“So, text me and we’ll do something,” Christy Baker said to Holster as she entered her number into his phone.

“‘Swawesome,” Holster replied and wagged his eyebrows. 

“Brah!” Shitty said as he and Lardo stood, silently—not-so-silently—judging him. “He collects phone numbers and breaks hearts like he’s trying for a world record or something.”

“Boo! Hiss!” Lardo smirked.

Holster made a _shoo_ motion. 

“I like being footloose and fancy-free, so sue me. And I can’t help it if Christy Baker added my name to her dance card.”

Shitty shook his head. “One day you’re gonna meet someone that will make you wanna stop your Cassanova-ing ways.”

Holster waved them off and began to walk away when he turned and crashed into someone.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry about that,” Holster said as he steadied the other person with his hands.

“It’s all right, dude,” the man said and then accidentally locked eyes with Holster.

“Oh,” Holster said and found he couldn’t look away.

The man smiled and offered his hand. 

“I’m Justin. Justin Oluransi… um, you can call me Ransom.”

“Adam. Adam Birkholtz.” 

Holster grinned as the two walked over to a table to get to know one another a little better.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Zeke called out from the stage, “Coach and Suzanne would like to say a few words. Aunt Suze, Coach, I have to say this AU has been pretty fun." He handed them the microphone. "It’s all yours.”

Coach and Suzanne walked over to the stage, as everyone quieted down.

Coach gripped the microphone tightly and cleared his throat.

“Suze and I want to thank you all for coming out here today to celebrate Junior and Jack’s love. And to Jack and Junior, I want to quote a romantic Southern saying that perfectly describes your love. ‘Sure as cornbread goes with greens, you're the answer to each other’s dreams.’”

Everyone laughed and one person booed. Coach chuckled, then cleared his throat. 

“I just want to say, Jack, we’re real glad to have you be a part of the family. Dicky? Jack? Can you come up here, please?” Coach said.

They got on stage, and Coach passed the microphone to Suzanne.

“Dicky, your daddy and I are so proud you. You’ve grown into such a wonderful, talented, accomplished young man. We know The Dancing Pies is where it’s at because of you.”

Coach wiped his eyes and handed Dicky an envelope.

“This is for you, son.”

Dicky took the envelope, and looked at Jack. Jack nodded and Dicky opened it.

“Oh my god,” Dicky said as he read the paper inside. 

He turned to Jack, “Oh my god! They bought us a Dancing Pies in Atlanta.”

Dicky threw his arms around his parents and began sobbing. 

“It’s all yours, Junior. Your shop to run, in whatever way you see fit,” Coach said as he hugged Dicky and motioned for Jack to join in.

“Free pie for life!” Tater cried out.

Zeke’s band began a cover of Old 97’s “Every Night is Friday Night,” as Dicky jumped up and down and pulled Jack front and center of the dance floor. Most of the guests began to follow suit.

“Bubba! Wait for me!” Alicia called out and tossed her shoes under the table. Bob laughed as he danced with MooMaw who waved Alicia into their little dance circle.

Holster, Shitty, Coach and Uncle Murray picked Jack and Dicky up on their shoulders and began bouncing them up and down. Dicky threw his head back and laughed as he reached for Jack who was laughing as well. And in that moment, that precious moment, Dicky finally let himself feel that he deserved that. All of that. He deserved to be happy. And his loud Southern family? Well, they’re all right. 

Later that night, as MooMaw and the rest of the Thrashers were doing shots of whiskey, Lardo and Shitty were slow dancing on the stage, everyone dug into their third or forth slices of pie, and Aunt Judy and Suzanne were gossiping about Hollywood with Alicia while Coach and Bob smoked cigars, Jack and Dicky snuck out and sat on top of a haystack behind the barn sharing a slice of pie and bottle of wine.

Jack put the plate down, then caressed Dicky’s face and pressed several small kisses onto his lips.

“I love you,” he said with each kiss.

“And I love you,” Dicky replied. “And do you know what I finally realized?”

“What, bud?”

“My family…” Dicky said, “well, the thing is, they’re big and loud, but they’re my family. And yeah, we smoke pigs in the yard, have traditional family hazings, and get into near fist fights over jam—but wherever I go, whatever I do, there they are and will always be there for me. For us.”

Jack smiled as he pulled his husband in for another kiss. And if Jack and Dicky spend the rest of the night kissing behind the barn while everyone continued dancing and drinking well into the morning, well, nobody really cared. Family’s understanding that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack with cowboy boots, huh? I am not a fan of cowboy boots, but I bet Jack would rock them and that boy would look good in anything.
> 
> Lardo and Shitty sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. You know I had to get those two together. Speaking of those two, I threw some Holsom in there. Or did I? Hmmm???
> 
> I skipped over the actual ceremony because everyone has their ideal Zimbits ceremony in their head. Go with that. I did, however, make it a Christian/Jewish ceremony because I feel like both Jack and Bitty would like to honor their heritage.
> 
> [Every Night Is Friday Night (Without You)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxraWZvvHfI), by Old 97's, is the perfect everyone get up and dance song.
> 
> The barn decor was actually based on a friend's wedding [at this barn](https://www.millcreekwilde.com). She also had a table full of wedding pies--no cake.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, and that I gave the movie a decent homage while giving it a good Zimbits spin. Thanks for all of your comments. Receiving them and reading them is the best, and I appreciate each and every one.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say [hi on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/).  
> All OMGCP characters belong to Ngozi Ukazu.


End file.
